


A Case Study In Body Language

by moonlit_martyr



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/M, Hurt Spencer, Hurt Spencer Reid, Oblivious, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:47:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlit_martyr/pseuds/moonlit_martyr
Summary: In the altruistic language of foreign tongue, and  the flower lettering of love stories, it’s important to  remember the context. In which Spencer Reid and you  will fall in love under the circumstantial evidence that the two of you exchange in the language that is physical, no symbolism or hidden messages but instead an abysmal means to end to find each other in places you never expect. In the image of storytelling this is a Case Study In Body Language, and all of it’s idealist beliefs and intentions.(tl;dr: spencer reid falls into drug addiction and darkness and you pull him out. and then shit gets weird.)
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 90





	1. i. thorns and roses

“I’ll be fine,” he spoke his words with little seeming confidence. A quietness lulling in his voice.  
  
Sudden interest was the best way to narrate the feeling. To see someone you knew so much in a place like that, unexpectedly. On a quiet day, a sunny one. Free of torturous endings and otherwise.  
  
His tongue slide across his bottom lips, taking note of it’s curvature as he nervously bit at the corners of it. Observing his movement, you can’t help but feel compelled by it’s dishonesty, fear ruining his usually neutral expression like a stamp of survival marqued on his face. You wish you didn’t notice, but it was so unlike him - who wouldn’t. His sudden slacked shoulders, his expression folding into itself as he took a means to ignore the things surrounding him, the hairs on his neck oddly raised. These details were inexplicable, insurmountably small. But you noticed, the slight clench of his jaw, the deepness of solitude in his eyes all drew into suspicion, a fear that made the pit in your stomach feel a little heavier than it was supposed to you.

Spencer takes no heed to you, and stands tall on his two feet. He catches himself slipping, and straightens his back before anyone can catch him. Emily only looks onto him with an onslaught motherly concern, and you look at him with one of curiosity. She watches him walk out of the door, but you stop to observe her for a few minutes, her expression falling as well. She pinches her nose softly, bordering exasperation as Spencer walks out of the door and she turns back to her desk.  
  
Spencer was never one for dishonesty unless it was in the order for saving lives, but that meant rather sincerely that Spencer Reid was incredible at lying. Dishonesty, and acting out came to him like breathing. The natural reaction of survival, and you guess whatever he was lying about was out of some form of survival. Survival is interesting in that way.  
  
You don’t take a second thought as you return to your work in folly. Eyes heavy, lashes touching your brow bones as you roll them up trying to keep your head over water, drowsiness symptom of your sickness. An intense cold and a few days later and you were on desk duty, filing paperwork and thinking about warm things - like laying in your bed with the humidifier on and sipping warm soup and breathing through your nose. All things that sounded particularly enjoyable to you. You shut your eyes, the subconscious maiden of sleep wrapping itself around your shoulders like a plush blanket and lulling you into rest as you slowly began to simmer down to rest. Head down on the desk, papers underneath you at every direction and visibly uncomfortable considering your position.  
  
Hotch gave you a soft look of concern before calling your name and waking you up, saving you from the vines of sleep crawling and curling around your legs and pulling you into abysmal rest. You sleepily blink up at you and he almost smiles. You realize your bosses presence above you and snap up into order, rubbing your eyes underneath your lower lash line to try and save your makeup. He looks at you neutrally.  
  
“Go home, Y/N, take a few days off. The paperwork will be here for you when you’re back and ready,” Hotch says with finality. You’re too hazy to disagree and you give him a nod,  
  
“Thanks Hotch,” you say, he nods at you and turns back to his desk in quiet. You quietly pack up your desk and your bag, saying your salutations to the rest of the office with a grogginess in your voice.  
  
Your hear Derek laugh and roll your eyes, not having the energy to hear is “I told you so,” because he did in fact, tell you so. But you wouldn’t let that hinder you, for now the only thing that was clear in your hazy tangles of thoughts was running to the store and picking up soup and cough medicine, oh - and nasal spray because you desperately craved breathing normal and sleeping in the same way. You look for tissues in your bag, but can’t find any. You sigh and shut your eyes in soft exasperation and waited for the elevator ding to alleviate your impatience on home.  
  
_  
  
Walgreens and their alternate reality infected your experience unexpectedly, drawing your lithe and attention to roaming the hallways with lethargy. Your subconscious laid out onto the concrete floors and following you as your consciousness slowly let it’s eyes shut, feeling distant, like a bottle tossed in the ocean. Your mental capacity couldn’t have been very high at the moment, unamused and trying to pick yourself up off the ground. You hated being sick, a deep sort of uncomfort settled in the pit of your stomach when you tried to to think more than a few minutes at a time and you sighed, ready to totally give into being a slug stuck on your couch to survive.  
  
The medicinal aisle seemed to part the rest of the store like the Red Sea. Your eyes hungrily grazed the decongestants section like a malnourished animal. Your hands went to Mucinex D, placing it in the flip up child seat. You could swear that you adorned with as much affection as you would an actual child. You pick up some DayQuil, knowing you had Nyquil in the back of your cupboard somewhere and continued on. A pack of lozenges, a box of tissues, and a bottle of orange juice later, you arrived back into the general weird food section of the drug store, probably hoping to pick up a frozen pizza or something else along those lines. Or maybe you’d pick up some hot Cheetos.. However, those would definitely not aid in your sickness and you overall went against the notion. Junk food was a beck and call to you, your drowsy brain urged for it like no other, and sighing you weakly bent down near the chips to make your choice.  
  
Lost in your own thoughts, the feeling of your cart bumping into you slightly startled you more then it should’ve. You slipped and fell, laughing a little at your own misfortune after the intial interaction. You look up to try and find whoever bumped into you, and not to much suprise, there was Spencer. Wide-eyed, and frightened. Which made you curious, and definitely annoyed. But you let it go, and stood up, dusting off the front of your jeans and turning to him.  
  
Spencer eyes were irregular, to say the least. His expression was jittery, like he couldn’t hold still and you found it interesting to see him like that. You never had before, he looked homesick almost. There was a longing to be somewhere else that took over the way he moved, and you were unsure how much it bothered you. But he does work with you, you should be polite.  
  
“Whatcha doing here, Spence?,” you asked casually standing up to face him. He made that little expression he makes when he’s trying to deflect from something, Hotch always paired you two up at crime scenes and you took note of it a long time ago, that little change in his voice. You could almost call it aggression, a cutting edge to an overall precious voice. Not that you found him precious, but Spencer Reid wasn’t an aggressive type in any way.

“Nothing important,” his voice was crass. More than anything you were confused, not surprised since early on he’d been acting out but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. The jittery nature of all of his little actions, and his deliberate, yet entirely unnatural facial expression sprung you into a spiral of doubt and wonder. Out of all the people on your team, Spencer Reid by some stretch of the issue had the least relevance to you. You weren’t close to him nor did you have any reason to be. Whatever he was lying about was strikingly obvious to you, so you can’t imagine the rest of the team doesn’t see it too. You decide to yourself, it’s frankly none of your business and try to shake off the feeling as best you can.

“Well.. I hope you find whatever you were looking for okay, I’ll get out of your way now,” you say to him forcefully. He gives you a painfully fake smile and continues on his way down the isle, his posture relaxing each step he took away from you. You wanted to roll your eyes, partially at the irritation that riddled you with that looming uncertainty. You weren’t concerned for him by himself, but typically when Spencer decides that something needs to happen, negative or positive, he’s willing to risk whatever it takes. Spencer didn’t take part in niceties, whatever the situation may be, you can only imagine the intensity that would make him act out the way he is right now.

Your eyes felt glued to his silhouette as you watched him disappear around the corner aisle, your body twisted around, hand loosely on the cart handle, almost entranced by his behavior. You shrugged purposefully attempting to shake the feeling at ran up your spine and continued on your trek to freedom from the hellish handcuffs of stuffed sinuses.

_____

God, you loved your fucking bed.

Enough time had passed that you could justify laying in bed and drinking a glass of wine. The sun set peacefully into the night sky, wrapping itself under the cover of the clouds and disappearing to get it’s rest. Following in suit, you felt yourself being lulled into a sleepy, dream-like state. Eyes heavy, sinuses beginning to clear (which made you unbelievably grateful to the big man in the sky,) and finally have shaken off your previous feelings of worry, you down the glass in your hand, and shut your eyes. The prospect of true sleep was something you would die for in this moment, your body finally turning off all of the settings it needed to keep on during the day to.. function like a person. No more thinking at all, just uninterrupted and beautiful sleep, ready to finally hold you tight in its arms and let you sleep. Sleep sounded so beautiful to you, right now. So timeless and wonderful.

Pulling your blanket up to your chest, and curling yourself into fetal position. You turn off your light, and the sudden snapshot of darkness fills you with warmth. Your head is laid up on your pillows in sheer bliss, hair up comfortably. It was picture esque, and made you snuggle further into your main place of comfort and luxury. Taking notice of the way your spine straightens as you lay, and how your face and neck feel against the cool pillows, you can feel your thoughts slowly start to thin out. The vividness of shut eyes slowly begin to pool and then disperse. After what seemed to be a few minutes, sleep finally seemed to come to you.

After all this, the loud, bellowing grumble of your stomach which made your whole bedroom roar, was not only deeply traumatizing, but deeply hurtful. You know when your so tired, and your peaceful sleep gets interrupted, and you just cry? Tears just flow helpless from your eyes and you are irrationally upset and you begin wondering about the universe’s most garbage injustice and cry more? That sadness, just hits different. God, fucking damn, your pudgy and hungry existence.

Wiping away your tears, and left feeling oddly pathetic, you pick up your phone from your bedside dresser. The bright white light, blinded you as you looked for places to go eat that could still be open at this hour. You responded to texts from your team while you were at it, the whole day seeming to have gone by too quick to respond in general. Business as usual, of course. Nothing seemed to really matter in all the passing moments that encountered since your teary eyed session. You needed sustenance desperately, you realize. You swing your feet over the side of your bed, and sit up in some sort of unspoken defeat that’s entirely unneeded. Perhaps you had a flair for the dramatic, you can’t say that that doesn’t factore itself into your night. You are now simply sleep deprived and hungry and the world made less and less sense as you thought through it.

You stand with little balance or motion recognition in your flawed movement. Your keys sat on your kitchen counter found themselves in your hands as you once again, unfortunately leave your home and place of solitude in hopes of finding cure or remedy. Earlier for sickness and now for.. living? Or something like that you guess. With, for some reason, a decent amount of confidence, your suped up on cough medicine mind decides that waffle house is clearly the right place to be eating your late night meal. It’d be smart to just run down to the store, maybe grab a can of progresso and eat that to numb your body that craves the release of sleep so much, and simply be at peace but no. Why make it easy for yourself, when do you ever do that? You stop in your tracks for a moment, your wash of anger taking your calm rational brain by surprise, as it tries to get you to think through your own feelings, but alas. Angry, Tired brain wins with ease and you let yourself succumb to miserableness for the first time in the day, hunger is a fiend you decide.

The drive way of the Waffle House is just as eerie as you remember, coated thickly with some evil presence no one could really recognize and a smell of marijuana that seemed to hang around even if no one was smoking. An odd place with an odd presence that seemed to call your name, dreaming of waffles and bacon and orange juice at late o’clock in the morning. Time all felt so relative now, you weren’t sure how much it mattered. Taking a seat a single booth in the front, the old waitress came to take your order. You smile at her weakly and order an All-Star breakfast and two chocolate chip waffles and she allows you to relish in your own sad meal in silence. From where your seated you can’t see much but the resident late night guests across from you who are also here to eat alone. You almost want to smile, but that very well may be the delirium that bites at your lungs and doesn’t full allow you to appear normal in the current moment.

From across from you, you see very little. There isn’t many people here other than a man whose staring blankly at the tv and the people who work here who aren’t all too pleased with being there in the first place. There’s a brown haired patron across from, he babysits a hot coffee and a waffle that only really have a few bites in it. You stare at him, partially because you don’t care about him looking at you, but also because his clothes make him hard to identify.

And in that moment, you encounter a feeling of such.. intense irritation, that you can’t help but sigh outwardly and wish that you could curse out the bastard in public, wishing you had that much confrontation in you at all. You sigh, and look at him a bit exasperated, knowing that he’d notice you soon enough as you watched and he did.. doing the dramatic (Or maybe just normal, Angry Tired Y/n simply had that kind of control over your perspective) face that he makes when he sees someone he recognizes. You wave at him, knowing that even if you were to eat in the simple silence your body craved, it would fall short to the fact you had to speak with him when he left. For fucking formalities sake, or something like that.

You waved him over haphazardly, your hand begging to be back onto the table with every forced movement you made with such disdain and discontent. He smiles just as fakely back to you, coming over in fake delight and fake joy to see you. What was the point of this shoddy behavior? Oh it was never more unclear than in this moment now, but it had to happen it felt like.

“What are you doing here, Spence?,” you say softly, a weak and overall defeated smile. He looks at you with returned enthusiasm.

“Couldn’t sleep, decided to make a night out of it,” He says with a frankness that could cut through drywall. You have to fill in for the conversation, as if his last words were a silent “your turn,” as the two of you play small talk hot potato.

“Have you eaten anything?,” the question is so mind numbingly simple you want to hit yourself for saying it. It’s also so tedious in the seconds pass.

And as much as you’d love to go on about how generally boring the conversation continued to be, it’s almost you struck a nerve in spencer. But, luckily for you it was all cut short, as Spencers phone rings in his pocket. You watch him pull it out, his eyes settling in some sort of odd panic you don’t really understand. He seems.. frazzled? Frankly, it’s out of character for him to look like that - he expects the worst possible outcome and he tends to be negative for anything to surprise him, surprise you. Who could it be?

“Hey, uh - yeah, I’ll be right there, see you soon,” his hands shake the slightest bit as he hangs up the phone. It wasn’t really something anyone else would notice, but you were a profiler, you did this all day everyday and the way that spencers usually steady hand tumbled onto itself - in such a restricted way got to you. Something was up with him, adversely but you didn’t really know what. Infact, you weren’t even sure how to place it. Nothing in your mind could ever be that bad, unless you had to jump to the worse case scenario. It stung, really. To have the prickly feeling crawl up your neck and weigh your stomach down like bricks, but you had no evidence. Nothing that wasn’t circumstantial, so you couldn’t say for sure. You watched him carefully, as he puts his phone and smiles at you again, as if he were a ken-doll. All of it felt manufactured.

“Urgent personal call, it was nice talking to you Y/N. I’ll catch you when we have our next case,” his tone is abnormally rushed, and he grabs his things and walks out before you can utter any goodbye. This was all so strange, and Spencer was a good actor you knew this for certain - but is it possible that you’re the only person whose noticed in the first place? That couldn’t be it right? There was no way.

There was a slowly sinking that you felt in every part of your body, your mind from both sickness and confusion weighed down like an anchor trying to hold on to a current reality you didn’t want to let go of. You can’t shake the paranoia that places its spindle fingers down your spine, something was wrong - undeniably something was so fucking wrong but what? How could you know for sure?

You knew what do, unfortunately. This was the only way you could know for sure - you think to yourself.

You really can’t believe that you were about follow Spencer Reid to wherever he was headed - you really truly can’t fathom it. You didn’t hate him but you tolerated him at absolute most - at absolute most he was just alright. But he’s your co-worker, he affect the team in more ways than one and the team has gone the hard road many times to save him from his own selfish thoughts and actions and as much as it borders on disgusts you - you have to know what the fuck was going on.

Your own weight feels heavy as you stand on your feet, taking a final bite of all the food on your plate, and beckoning your lovely waitress for to-go for your coffee. By now you suspected you’d need it to even survive this whole endeavor. Stretching, you grab your things and pay your bill, and set foot out into the parking lot.

Spencer was conveniently in the corner, his back facing you as he entered his car. You thank some higher power with great intention for allowing you to park far enough that he doesn’t see you - you’ve trained in stealth more than once so you suppose this was a mission of some kind. You use your keys to unlock your car to minimize the noise and duck your head down, turning your headlights on and starting your car - angling your mirror to be in direct line of vision of Spencer. He still had not gone into his car, he simply stood in front of you and you couldn’t see what he was doing so you staked him out to see his next move.

The moment was filled with a type of stagnancy that was unfamiliar to you, your fingers felt numb but your hands were simply still. Time was slowed, rallying your last bits and pieces of normalcy as your collective being watched the chaos begin to unfold. In the moments it happened, everything began to still and speed all at once. Spencer enters his car, pulls off into the night and your urged to follow him, like a string was tugging you too him each passing second. You were attached to his presence in that moment, watching over his humanity out of only concern.

The drive was quiet, the city was aching to be asleep and it was. It was just you, and Spencer down and old and unwinding road. He couldn’t see you, you’re sure, but your eyes were stuck onto his license plate like it was the last thing you’d ever see - this was certain. It was unnerving really - the registration of loneliness and callous that you began to feel in the moment. Your neck felt like it’d stop giving support to your head if the time didn’t come and everything didn’t fall into place. Inherently, you knew it was no or never thought you weren’t sure why.

You aren’t sure how long the drive was - the only thing you knew was seeing Spencer pull into an abandoned parking lot. The lights overhead weren’t flickering, they were moving and still and sterile. Spencers car was the only one in the lot, not a soul else. Your eyes observed him carefully, his leaning and lanky figure nearly stumbling over to a brown paper bag sitting underneath pole - a halo of light surrounding it with tangible irony. Spencer puts a sterile glove on and reaches down to pick up the bag. He picks it up, and opens it - reaching in for the contents of what it may be.

Your suspicions, as painful and as downright dark they were, stood clear and correct. Clear vials of Hydromorphone shined under the light like stars, the sterile bottles and the pair needles clear in Spencers hand as he made sure everything he paid for was there and in order. You can’t see his expression in the moment - to be honest, you didn’t know if you wanted too. You’re afraid that what should be pain - would instead be cast with numbness and anarchy. Spencer doesn’t deteriorate often - but when he does the process is fast and volatile. Spencer was so volatile - it made you angry. You pulled your car into the parking lot, the thought or aftermath of what could occur not mattering to you.

Spencer holds the product up to his chest as you pull in next to him. You roll your window down and he’s more afraid that it’s just you - maybe because he knows you’re not going to let him off. If he made it past you right now it’d be by the skin of his fucking teeth - you knew that for certain.

“Put the product in the backseat, and get in the car,” your tone is frank, cold and unmoving. Spencer tries to get angry at you, opens his mouth to start to raise his voice but he’s met with yours instead

“I said get in the fucking car, Spencer,” if the lot weren’t empty, eyes would be on you. Your voice was chilling, and with silence he does as he’s told


	2. ii. tidal seperations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer takes time off and you’re worried about what the future holds. Maybe it’s moral obligation that leads you to take care of Reid as he works through his vices, but maybe there’s something more to it. You can’t say for sure.

Midnight was detrimental to the human mind. The evidence of that was concise in the car ride between you and Dr. Spencer Reid. The space between tangible with tension and bubbling, simmering anger. 

Your hands were fastened around the steering wheel, knuckles pale white. Spencer was sitting with his knees away from you - teeth gritted together in a symphony of misplaced emotions and projection. The silence was deafening - both of you looking at anything but the other person with angry and nonsensical confusion. The wind was blurring your eyesight as you drove down the highway to Spencer’s apartment, an uncomplicated endeavor that suddenly had some great stakes to it that neither of you could prepare for. Every detail was carefully placed in order to cause the most destruction. The sound of the bottles in the back clicking together, the silence of the entire city at 3am you and Spencers generally disheveled appearance. All things that seem culminated together to create a perfect disaster - it was almost poetic. 

Spencer cleared his throat, swallowing his pride as he turned his head to look at you. You were entirely still - nothing was moving except the fact he could see your toes curling in your shoes. It was a rapid and anxious movement, a way for the emotion to escape you while not showing anything else. Your jaw was forcibly still like you were telling yourself to keep it still. You were, gritted teeth and fists just begging to pound on Spencer’s chest and knock some fucking sense into him. 

Spencer folds first, the silence begging to cut your tightrope friendship entirely. This outcome was beyond your words and description - neither unexpected or catastrophic, but rather heavy. A heavyweight on the both of your shoulders, tied to each other in social contract. Was it respect that kept your hands away from your phone the second you saw? Was it friendship? Or was it something bigger, much more vast than either of you that was bordering indescribable. The silence begged many questions, but most of all it begged to broken. You and Spencer forced to put the pieces together. 

“Y/N, listen,” his voice was calm - it was clear this speech was well-practiced and it pissed you off further. You shut your eyes with exasperation, as your tongue swipes the back of your teeth, physically trying to hold it back from calling him a fucking dumbass. You still might, but a selfish part of you was urged to just wait and hear his explanation. 

“I’m fine - but please don’t tell the team, I don’t need them worrying about me,” Spencer rushed the words as if they were being beaten out of him. You laugh angrily and swerve your car into a parking lot on the next turn. Spencer looks at you curiously as you stop in - opening his mouth to speak, words replaced quickly with the sound of your voice. 

“Oh, are you fucking kidding me? Are you genuinely fucking serious?,” your voice is beyond angry. Spencer’s defense raises as he realizes the situation - as both of you play the other side of the court. 

“I seriously cannot believe you - I knew you were a selfish prick, but fucking seriously? Jesus Christ, Spencer what do you think happens now?,” your voice borders a scream as you look at him, eyes blurry, fingers shaking. You want to hit him, punch him, anything to knock him to his sense but you don’t, the urge pulsating through your every nerve. 

“What are you talking about? You were the one following me but this has nothing to fucking do with you! You’re supposed to just leave this alone, and I’m asking you a favor - what is complicated about that? This doesn’t concern you, so stay out of it!,” His voice is laced with dishonesty, hidden by anger but his selfishness prompts your frustration further. You want to correct him, to get it through his thick skull that this is bigger than him and you - that this has to do with the team and people he cares for but you’re too frustrated. 

“I seriously can’t fucking believe you and to be honest, I cannot deal with having this conversation with someone so fucking stupid - I’m throwing away your stash and dropping you off at home - I’ll deal with you tomorrow,” you say exasperated. You were sick for fucksake, nose still dripping and voice already hoarse from before. Too many demons in your own life for you to fight his at 3am. Not tonight anyway. 

“No, you can’t throw it away,” his voice nearly reads as a plea but you shoot him a look - one so sharp you suspect if you acted on that expression, he’d knocked out with a bruise on him.

The rest of the car ride passes in total silence, no gritting of teeth or anger left, all replaced with different kinds of exhaustion. Different kinds of frustration creating this chokehold on both of you as the long night become darker by nature - maybe as a show and tell for the plays that both of you are forced to make. To look into another’s darkness without warning is a scary place to be, Both of you find yourself to explore together - the consequences were still unclear. 

You dropped Spencer off at his apartment, and you drive home. Comforted by the solitude but unable to focus on anything but the road without feeling fear stir in your chest. The feeling wasn’t out of place but it wasn’t what you were expecting. 

You feel your throat tightening as you walk into your own apartment, and walk into your kitchen - putting on coffee and rubbing your face with exasperation. The sleeplessness is replaced with jittery caffeination as you watch the sunrise through the window of your apartment. The darkness still seems to wane - but maybe that was the exhaustion talking.

__ 

Work called in like expecting but the morning lacked any feeling of normalcy expected. You were less angry now, surely. Everything was left feeling sticky in a sense - a long term discomfort surrounding everything you did, and the only thing that would relieve it would be seeing Spencer. After the anger subsided you just hoped he didn’t do anything stupid, but you weren’t close enough for the two of you to just talk or for you to text him. So you spent the whole night looking at lots of nothing while your mind went a hundred different places trying to figure out how you got here. 

Walking into the BAU was helpful - it was grounding, a well-needed kind of sanity. You were one of the few people on earth that was comforted by a place many would consider dark, but it was home. A home with people to hold you still, and love to make you weep, something you didn’t normally experience. Something you’d never really experienced before, anyways. 

Emily is the first to greet you, looking at you intently before laughing - partly concerned. You smile at her weakly, sending her a wave. 

“Rough night?,” she asks lightly, you laugh playfully and nod. She looks at you fondly, pushing her hair behind her ears.

“Being sick is quite disruptive to sleep apparently,” you remark with sarcasm. She nods and smiles sympathetically. 

“We don’t have a case today, Hotch might agree to let you stay home another day,” she comments. You shake your head. 

“Still gotta catch up on paperwork,” you say sighing. She nods again and theres a few seconds of comfortable silence. 

“Hey, Emily - do you know where Spence is?,” you ask carefully. She shoots you a curious look but answers your question. 

“He called Hotch last night and took some time off, said it was something to do with his mom. Haven’t spoken to him since yesterday,” she says, recalling that very conversation. 

Something in you drops, as you sit up straight. Emily looks at you confused, but you don’t have any clue on how to explain so you don’t. Instead, you stand up and look for Hotch whose in his office.

“On second thought, I think I’m gonna go ask Hotch to take another day,” you say, voice hoarse. Emily just nods at you, dazed in her own right.

“Thanks, Em, see you soon,” you say as you rush over to Hotch’s office. He looks at you as you pop the door open, and greet him. You swallow thickly, your words seeming to be stuck to your throat as you speak them - unable to do anything but rush. Your every movement and expression feel that way - like time is moving too fast and too slow all at once. 

Hotch looks at you concerned, sensing your urgency as you walk in and close the door behind you. 

“Hey Hotch, can I talk to you?,” you repeat the question meekly. 

“Of course, Y/N,” he says to you, brows furrowed tightly with worry. 

“I wanted to request some time off, something is going on back home and - ,” your voice sounds like its going to break, so Hotch stops you. 

“Take as much time as you need, we’ll be here when things settle,” He speaks knowingly, the only one on the whole team who does know anything about it. It wasn’t technically a lie either, but it was happenstance that you were taking time off for it. 

“Thanks, Hotch,” you reply softly. He nods at you and you’re on your way out of the door. No one else is in, and Emily isn’t in sight so you slip away entirely undetected. 

The car ride to Spencer’s house makes your skin itch. You can’t get dark thoughts out of your head, struggling to drive there in the first place. Worry blossoms in your chest and every stoplight seems to stimulate the feeling. Every moment that you aren’t sure is another moment Spencer could be doing something detrimental and you can’t have that guilt resting in you. 

You rush up his apartment stairs, and knock on the door. Silence. You shake yourself, trying to regain some balance before you knock again - voice small as your call to Spencer on the other side. 

“Are you okay?, Spencer,” your voice echoes in the empty hallways - seeming to loom over both of you. Every movement you make is calculated, and precise. 

Spencer lays against the other side of the door, slumped up against it with exhaustion. He knows he’s experienced minor withdrawals, he hasn’t gotten high in days and its working him heavily. His skin is hot against his clothes, eyes dilated, breathing through his mouth as he tried his best to stay still and relax. Pain shoots within his muscles as he fixates himself on anything, anything to keep him afloat. He hears your voice and winces. 

“I’m fine, Y/N, leave me alone,” he croaks out. You sigh with relief but know you can’t leave. 

“Just open the door, Spencer,” you say sighing. He feels a shiver run down his spine and shakes his head as if you can see him. 

“This has nothing to do with you, Y/N. I don’t understand what you’re here for in the first place, you’re not gonna be some hero for finding this out. I gotta say I am impressed that you figured it out first though, I always figured you were kinda incompetent,” his breathing is heavy, taking an edge of his words. It stings to hear since you know he still means them but you don’t have the energy to complain. You sit down, back against his door and sigh. 

“You really are an absolute dickhead,” you say more to yourself than anyone else, growing frustrated. You rub your face in your heads, your legs up to your chest and you sigh aloud - annoyed. 

“Just leave me alone already,” his words hold sincerity in them. He sincerely doesn’t like you, and neither do you - but the two of you knew that already - before your relationship was purely political but it was forced to go deeper than that. This feeling was a cross between pure annoyance and frustration - you didn’t know someone’s existence could be so frustrating but you found yourself here. 

“What do you want Spencer? Do you want some emotional speech about how you shouldn’t do this, and how you’re stronger than this? Well, fuck you - you’re not getting that out of me. I’m not fucking JJ, or Penelope, or anyone else for that matter. To be honest, I don’t give a single shit about your life outside of work and I’ve always planned on keeping that way. This situation, my presence here - we lie in this bed together. I’m not JJ, I’m not gonna pretend to be here out of some deep-rooted platonic love. We’re co-workers, and I’m a decent fucking person so I’m not gonna let you sit here and rot-away. Why? Because JJ, Derek, Emily, Penelope, and Hotch all care for you and I care about them. I’m not gonna let you ruin yourself and be a selfish prick - so open the fucking door and let me help so you can actually get better. After that, I’ll keep your dirty little secret,” 

Your speech is given unwavering, and every word you said held a specific weight. You were right, and that was ultimately the problem. You weren’t close to Spencer, but you were close to the team. He knew you were doing this because you had too, solely out of moral obligation - he knew that you understood that something was objectively wrong. And maybe that was the problem - none of this was personal to you. You were actually just trying to help because you knew he needed it - he had no intrusive thoughts about something so objective. He sighs heavily, letting tears escape him. Weakly, he stands up and opens the door slightly. 

You walk into Spencer’s apartment and scan the room. It’s a mess, books stacked up untidily along with take-out boxes and plastic water-bottle littering random areas. Fresh needles sat on the edge of his desk, and you winced at their presence - the whole thing too familiar. Spencer sitting on the couch dazed off. You know immediately. 

“Withdrawal,” you mumble to yourself. He looks at you confused. 

“How?,” 

“Not important. How many days has it been since you showered?” you ask. He can’t seem to remember and you sigh. 

“When was the last time you ate?,” you ask again. He shuts his eyes, lids twitching before he responds. 

“Last night,” he says again. You check his temperature and his body is hot. You sigh. 

“How long can you be alone for?,” you ask. He shakes his head, rubbing his face. 

“An hour, at most,” he admits to you quietly. You sigh, standing up and giving him a tight hug. It’s unexpected, and not something he was used to but the comfort was so… comforting he couldn’t refuse. You feel hot tears land onto your abdomen as you sigh, rubbing Spencer’s back with understanding. 

“Leave the door unlocked in case you fall asleep, I’ll be back in half an hour. I’m gonna put on a nature documentary, so just watch that and just try to focus on it. When I come back, tell me something you didn’t know already or correct something that was wrong - that’s your homework for the next half-hour, okay?” you say softly. Your tone of voice was warm, and knowing. This process seemed familiar to you but Spencer decides against saying anything. 

You put on some animal planet on your laptop, and go off on your way, letting Spencer watch and focus intently. He finds his eyes shutting as time passes, and falls asleep. 

__ 

Spencer wakes up to the sound of pots and pans in his kitchen. He doesn’t think he’s ever used his kitchen so he’s startled at first. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he walks into his kitchen to see you. You’re wearing an apron and bandanna, a long shirt and leggings. He’s never seen you like this, watching with intent as you fidget with the knobs on his oven. The smell of pasta and garlic hit him with ferocity and his stomach grumbles. You startled by his presence and turn to look at him. He finds himself overwhelmed and slips out a quiet hello. 

“Hey, Spencer. How’d you sleep?,” you ask the question casually. He blinks again and looks at you. 

“Well,” his response is dry. You start washing dishes in the kitchen sink as the oven turns off and Spencer finds himself walking closer to the island in the middle of it. He takes a seat, seeing fresh fruit and a glass of water poured out for him. 

“They had some strawberries on sale, so I cut them up for you. Vitamin C is good for you right now, and you need to eat anyways - so have some,” you explain, mindlessly washing away. You shake your head at how many seem to be in the sink, probably a lot of weeks of build-up. It makes you wonder if anyone comes by. 

“Why’re you doing this,” he asks before he can stop himself. He flinches at the sound of his voice, gravelly and exhausted. You know the questions coming, but you can’t give him a good answer yet. You figure it’s worth a shot to try. 

“Recovery is a slow thing. The small things are what can be the most overwhelming when you’re trying to get better and I want you to get better” you say as honestly as possible. 

“But why?” he asks again. Not urgent, just curious. You turn the water off and look at him 

“It’s a story for when I know you a little better Spence,”

The answer seems to satisfy him, as he looks down. 

His voice is barely a whisper as he looks at you, watching you bend down and pull out a tray of lasagna. He watches you so carefully, he finds his heart, stirring - unsure of why. He smiles, a very small, but genuine smile as you place the lasagna on the counter. You look to him and give him a tight-lipped smile back. 

“It’ll be a minute before this cools, so I suggest you take a shower, or bath or something,” you suggest. Spencer winces, the thought of being alone in the bathroom making his skin crawl. He’s brain wracks itself with the idea of being alone again, that loneliness is what got him here in the first place and to be anywhere but there is so relieving. His eyes are hollow when he thinks about it. You see his expression and yours softens. 

“I know it’s tough if you want I can massage your head with shampoo or something before you go in - make it a little less daunting. My little cousin likes it because he’s scared of the sound the shower makes, so it might help,” you explain. Spencer blushes, but the idea isn’t all that bad. A little embarrassing but it’d be nice. Plus his head hurts, so it’s not all that bad of an idea. He scratches the back of his neck and nods. 

“Thank you,” his voice is barely above a whisper. You look at Spencer tenderly, and you sit down at the island next to him. He turns his body, neck stretching as he looks at you exhausted. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Spencer. It’s not gonna be easy because this type of thing, it just seems to follow you. It’ll feel like it’s everywhere at first, but it isn’t. Keep your head up, if not for you - for the people who need you like Diana and the team,” you explained gently. Spencer and you weren’t ever very close but his mother loved you. Even if she couldn’t remember you, she always had a pleasant reaction to your name when she was feeling okay. She had met you when Spencer brought her into the BAU for a case. 

Spencer’s eyes shift their focus onto you and for the first time in his life, his reaction to you wasn’t so unpleasant. It was still strained, still difficult and unruly - but different. It was humanizing to see you like that. He nods at you, dazed. You give him an awkward smile. 

“C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, softly. Spencer blushes as he leads you to the bathroom

_

“I’m starting to realize, I don’t actually know anything about you,” Spencer muses softly. Your fingers are tucked away in his curls, white bubbles of foam and shampoo between them as you work Spencer scalp. His hair was greasy, but that’s probably because he used that terrible 4-in-1 stuff before. You figured you’d be there for a while anyway, so you ended up using your own products. Disgusted at the fact he was a grown man and still used 4-in-1. Who does that? 

“I don’t really talk a lot about what I do outside of work,” you reply casually. You scratch a part of Spencer scalp and watch his neck crane in delight like he was a small dog. You stifle your laughter. 

“What do you do then?” Spencer asks. 

“I volunteer with kids, mostly. I help them learn to read at the library nearby, you know - read with them and help them pick out new stories to learn together,” you say sincerely. Spencer is softened by your words. 

“That’s really nice,” Spencer comments. You laugh. 

“I guess so. It’s just something I do, you know? Kids are wonderful, they have so much wonder about life. It’s all sincere, too. It’s more fun to read with people whose imaginations are so big, seeing them make up their own world,” you say affectionately. Spencer nods in agreement. 

“Yeah,” 

There’s a moment of comfortable silence before Spencer finds himself curious again. 

“What else do you do in your spare time?,” 

“I try to volunteer as much as I can, just in general. Soup kitchens, animal shelters, that kind of thing. If I’m taking some personal time, I cook a lot. I’ll invite some people over and have a small dinner party. I’d invite the BAU sometime but that’s kinda Rossi’s thing so I wouldn’t wanna intrude,” you say softly. Spencer notes that none of those things are really all that personal. 

“Those are all things you do for other people, though. What do you do for you?,” Spencer asks again. You feel something stir in you at the question, and you shift. You become a little suddenly aware at the fact that Spencer’s head is between your thighs but you can’t say anything about it. 

“I listen to music a lot. I cross-stitch sometimes but that makes me sound super old. I bake a lot too, loaves of bread and bagels and sometimes desserts but I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I really enjoy my me-time so I have very long-winded self-care routines that I do to loosen up and feel pampered. It’s nice,” you say shyly. You’re not used to the question, about what you do for you. It feels vain to answer. Spencer seems intrigued by that. 

“Self-care routine?,” Spencer eggs on. You chuckle at his curiosity. 

“Skincare, self-pampering, shit like that. Most women have like 3 different versions and they vary based on how much time they have. I’m a working woman, so I have a version for cases and a version for weekends alone and a version for going out. I can’t speak for guys here, so I won’t but yeah,”

“You know, it’s been proven time and time again that it’s majorly beneficial for people of any gender to take time off to attend to personal needs. It’s shown major benefits in overall happiness, mood, and overall attitude,” Spencer repeats back. You give a small smile, it finally feels more like Spencer. 

“Take your own advice, genius,” you comment back sarcastically. Spencer laughs, leaning into your fingers without much thought. He’s visibly more comfortable than he was before. It makes you comfortable too. 

“Alright, you feeling okay to go shower, kid?,” you ask Spencer. He does, but he find himself a little disappointed. The nickname bounces around his head for a moment before he laughs again. His voice is light. 

“Yeah, yeah I think I’m okay. Thank you,” He stands up and so do you, and the two of you look at each other for what feels like a few seconds too long. You look at him, the old t-shirt he’s in, and his pajama pants and you can’t help the way your heart bangs against the cage of your chest. It could’ve been a lot of things, maybe the fluorescent lightning or the way that your hands were covered in shampoo, or the way Spencer stood a little slumped and sleepy. You didn’t want to kiss him. You were just compelled to give him a break, and maybe that was worse. Feeling compelled to give someone empathy even though a small part of you always felt like they were a complete asshole. Feeling moved by someone’s vulnerability so much you almost give them a pass, yes certainly that was more dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, you just give Spencer a smile and a pat on his chest. He hates the way he takes notice of the feeling. 

“I’m gonna set up dinner, and we can watch Harry Potter,” It was the one thing you two had in common before all this. He nods. 

“Okay, yeah, that works. Thanks,” he says again more softly. He wants to say more, and in a way so do you but neither of you does. You wash your hands of the shampoo and close the door behind you. Your eyes flutter closed for a moment as you listen to the water run and think to yourself. It was by pure circumstance that you ended up here, really. The way every move had made thus far, though it felt so careful feels beyond your control. You weren’t alone for the first time in a long time and this feeling keeps weighing on you. More dangerous than love is empathy. Empathy for someone so stupid and selfish, it made you feel strange. Yet it was there. Yet, you were there. 

Spencer understood the feeling. Guardian Angel, the term bounced around in Spencer’s mind as he showered. The feeling of your fingers still on his mind. Not alone, for the first time in too long. Strange is such a phenomenon. 


	3. iii. angel wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve been taking care of Spencer and living with him on and off for a few months, and tonight was supposed to be any other night but it wasn’t. You and Spencer speak honestly for the first time, and Spencer thinks he sees wings on your back. No more walls, no more secrets.

You were getting a little too accustomed to the company of Spencer Reid. After that first night, you’d stop by every day and depending on the situation, some nights - no, many nights, you’d sleepover. The morning sun would shed your worries away as you hear Spencer asleep in the other room. You slept less than Spencer at this point, but he was constantly exhausted, so who could blame him. The mental toll of addiction was blooming, and more often than not you worried about his relapse. Some days were better than others, but the night was always difficult. Full of darkness, and silence, and overthinking. 

It had been two months, on and off of living in Spencer’s apartment for temporary amounts of time. Everywhere he went there were traces of you, the smell of your shampoo and soap, or your laundry folded up neatly, or grocery lists you wrote in cutesy stationery. Your house was in a similar condition - with traces of Spencer’s existence there though he’d never actually set foot in your apartment. His clothes, mostly. Old books he gave you to read, as a small and unspoken repayment. Little reminders of the other person just seemed to pop up everywhere and neither of you really spoke about it. Not if you didn’t have too. 

It was two months like that before tonight happened - what would have normally been another normal night. You made dinner or ordered takeout if you were too tired. The two of you would make small talk, small bits and pieces of intimacy in many ways unknowing, falling onto the floor in front of you, for the other person to pick up. Then the sun would rise, and you’d take care of your personal life while Spencer tried slowly but surely to reintegrate. This was normal for both of you. 

Two months of living on and off with another person accustom you a lot to their inconsistencies. Sometimes it was glaringly obvious when something was wrong, like now. When the knock on Spencer’s door lingers for a few seconds too long and you can feel the tidal waves crash and go to shit. When your heart pounds in fear as you use the key to unlock the door and see a needle missing on the desk and know. It was the small pains, the growing pains that hurt the most when you and another person share the same quiet space. 

It hurt most to see Spencer so exhausted. It was killing him and he was letting it, but he was trying. Something happened, surely it did but what? He was getting better even if it was slow but something made him look to the needle before he looked to you and maybe that was the hardest part. That all the walls both of you forcibly kept up may be a reason he got here in the first place. You didn’t have time for heartache, because for now you just didn’t know. You didn’t know of the circumstances, or evidence, or even if he didn’t overdose and those things are the darkest. 

When you see Spencer Reid, staring into the ceiling high out of his mind, you don’t really know how to feel other than sad. You’re not crying, you’re not in pain, you’re just sad. You wish you were angry because anger is such a simple and uncomplicated emotion but you could never be. It was just sad. For a lot of reasons, but just that at the end of the day. 

You sat next to Spencer, placing your bags on the floor. You leaned on the coffee table, taking his temperature. He looked over at you, wincing but smiling. You can’t blame him for chasing his happiness, you suppose. Your hand rests on his forehead for a few seconds as you watch him in silence. He just looks up at the ceiling, eyes flitting with nothingness as he lays there, unmoving.

“What happened, Spencer?,” your voice isn’t solemn. He appreciates that you’re genuinely just asking him a question. His eyes fall onto your expression, and he looks carefully at all your features. A feeling of adoration stir in his chest, his hands reaching out to touch your face and you let him. He figures its the high talking, so he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you - and touches you, afraid that if he doesn’t you’d disappear and he wasn’t ready for that yet. His fingers shake when he moves them. But they still as soon as he touches your skin. 

“JJ called, and asked me how I was,” he laughs. It’s not a genuine laugh, because you’ve heard Spencers genuine laugh and it sounds different. Less throaty, and more like an uproar. 

“I hate lying to them, hah. I do it all the time, but every time it comes with this regret. This time the lie is so bad, I might never tell them,” he muses. You hold his wrist and pull off from it. He looks at you curiously but you lock fingers with him instead and that seems to ease him. 

You just look at him for a few seconds. You don’t have much to say that he doesn’t already know because well, that’s just the thing. The two of you still don’t know much at all. You wish it were as simple or well-thought-out as destiny but it wasn’t. It was careful considerations to make sure that things never got too close. That ultimately, both of you could leave this situation behind someday with nothing more than solidarity. Neither of you tried, to tear down any walls or breakthrough any barriers. You sat stagnant, on opposite sides of the same concrete wall and just spoke, or knocked, or otherwise. Each of you just trying to make sure the other survived the darkness. You can’t help but feel it was your fault, that maybe if you were JJ for him, he wouldn’t feel so compelled to break but the notion is flawed. 

It sounds complicated because it is. It takes a level of stubbornness from every party to spend two months with someone and scrape by without at least being friends. You were close, but not friends. If there was a word for that, then this was it. 

“Don’t leave tonight, please,” his voice is dry when he says it. It sounds like he can’t bear too but he does anyway and the request is a surprise. You just nod, staring at him. Trying to figure out how to just exist in something so complicated. 

“Tell me, something, Y/N,” he poses the questions, turning his whole body to face you. You read his expression and he laughs at your confusion. 

“Nothing, in particular, we don’t really do very good at honest conversations, do we?,” he smiles when he says it. You can’t help but smile back, recognition of his words to be true. You just look to him, his body language is so relaxed and quiet. It’s a little unnerving how much you don’t recognize him but whose fault was that? It’s hard to say his or yours. No sway in either direction.

You don’t really know why or how it happens. You don’t know if it’s the way he looks at you so warmly, or the way his hands hold yours so tight like your the last thing he has to hold onto. It was like the two of you had forgotten the whole world, genuinely forgotten it and this was all that was left. Both of you just holding onto the other person, the person who’d walk with you through the darkness without intention and now you were both here. It wasn’t time because it never would be. It would never be the right time to stop being so stubborn, but sometimes the universe aligns in a way where it makes the most sense to not be. None of it ever made any sense but how could it?

“I’m sick of playing this game, Y/N, and you are too. It’s stupid, and it doesn’t have to mean anything but we keep letting it. It keeps meaning something and that’s why you’re still here. So what does this mean to you?,” Spencer’s question isn’t aggressive, or unwarranted. He’s right, thats the part that’s most difficult. 

He was _right_. Two months of being together, living together, talking together and still the both of you were here. At some point, the moral obligation stopped, at some point, the emotions didn’t make sense - at some point, there was no need for either party to keep going. But you did, and neither of you knew when the end was. At some point, this was something more than a moral obligation. It had personal stakes, rooted in fear, love, and acceptance. Stakes from personal places that neither of you ever talked of. Always just managed to avoid it. 

“I asked you two months ago, so know I’m asking again. Why’re you here?,” Spencer asks, looking at your expression. You look to him for reassurance and he gives it to you before you settle and go to tell him why - or really who. 

“His name was Michael. He was a brother to me, and when I was little - he always got me out of trouble. He showed me what it meant to live, and to be alive. He taught me how to fight, he taught me how to love, and he showed me how to be kind. Every lesson I learned, he taught me. When the addiction finally caught up with him, he gave me a note. Told me thank you for everything, and that he was sorry. Sorry he couldn’t fight away the demons anymore and told me to remember to be kind. That, that would change the world someday. That’s the short version anyway,” you spoke solemnly. You weren’t sure when you started crying, but Spencer started wiping tears off your face. 

It was the first time anyone on the team had ever heard of the story. They knew things about you, of course they did but you always kept that part of you. It made you, all of you but you didn’t want so many people to know all of you. Just not yet anyways. It was such a dark part of you, and maybe part of you believes that if you keep it away - they wouldn’t have to carry the burden of sympathy with them. You didn’t want sympathy; you didn’t want anyone to know just how fucked up your life used to be because it took you so long to grow from that. You’re afraid of unpacking something that you spent so many years compartmentalizing. 

“Shit, sorry,” you say softly. Spencer just looks at you. 

“I didn’t really have much family, my mom passed away when I was young and my dad isn’t really around - he took me in, but he’s a piece of shit. It was the neighborhood that raised me, I made trouble but who didn’t? I have plenty of people back home who are family but there’s no blood relation,” You explain. Spencer nods, a little tired. 

“I was pretty isolated as a kid, so I kinda get it,” he explains. You give him a smile. 

“It’s different, and I know how hard it was for you. You shouldn’t diminish that,” you explain warmly. Spencer cries this time, which is certainly unexpected. You wipe his tears. 

“Michael took me under his wing when he was volunteering at the community center. He said I reminded him of someone, never told me who. Every time I go home that center is the first place I go,” you say softly, recalling home fondly. Spencer listens to you intently. 

“It housed a lot of addicts and homeless folks. So now, I just know when something is wrong. I know what to do, and what to look for. Every person has a different reason and story, so sometimes there’s no time to do everything you can. Sometimes a hot meal and a shower, and that one night of comfort is the most you can do for someone. Because ultimately, you can’t force them to recover. You can only give them the tools to try,” you explain, recalling your life back home. A part of yourself that only Hotch really knew, because it was always so hard to talk about. 

“I’ve seen it all, you know? The whole world is sick so what do you do? For me, I just try my best to do what I can. The BAU, and life back home, all of it. I just try my best because it’s all I can do,” your voice is gentle when you say the last part. Spencer’s throat is closing up as he stops himself from crying. He sees what everyone else must’ve seen before. It’s hard to not be moved by you. 

“What do you do when it’s not enough?,” he asks quietly. You’re startled by the question but you pet his hair for a second. 

“Your best is always enough. It’s foolproof because there isn’t anything you can do after your best. So when it feels like my best isn’t enough, I try to remember that there wasn’t anything more to do. It’s hard but it’s how you stay afloat. When it becomes personal, it’ll gnaw on your soul till there’s nothing left, so I try so hard to make sure it doesn’t get that way,” you explain soothingly. The last part sticks on Spencer’s conscious mind but he doesn’t say anything about it. 

“You know, we never talked about the first night you were,” Spencer croaks. You look at him for a second, pausing and taking in his words. You didn’t, and it never occurred to you that maybe you should. 

“Would you like to?,”

Spencer just smiles. You take that as a yes. 

“You’re different when you’re like that, and like this,” you’re the first to talk about it. Spencer just looks at you knowingly. 

_You put on Harry Potter and waited for Spencer to come out of the shower. Everything was going surprisingly well and when Spencer popped his head out of the bathroom to ask for a towel - you had earned yourself a little faith that maybe this would turn out okay._

_It was short-lived, really. Spencer comes, and sits, and eats. But he isn’t hungry, and he slept for a while but he doesn’t think he will ever again and his breathing becomes unhinged. The folly into what should’ve felt inevitable. It was the first time you’d ever seen Spencer in such a state, unready and willing but destined to fall apart._

_You got him to eat, and to sleep - but the night was going to fall any time soon and he was losing his mind. Moving constantly, walking and pacing, and sighing. He couldn’t hold himself any longer, couldn’t fathom the idea of being alive. Of course, it hurts too. It hurts when you don’t take it and it hurts when you do, so for a while, you and Spencer are just stuck. You’re watching him fold into himself and you’re just a little unsure._

_Spencer sits to read and his hands are shaking. Harry Potter long forgotten, the lasagna foiled wrapped, and the city dark. The world had stopped it felt like but Spencer couldn’t stop shaking. His finger trembles every time he turned the page and an exasperated sigh fell from his lips. He just wanted to focus on anything but the feeling that made his skin feel so hot and prickly._

_You sit next to Spencer and silently take the book from his hands. You hold his hands together and put the book away and you walk to lock his doors and turn of his lights. He looks at you curiously as you pack things away and tidy up. You grab a pillow and some blankets and sit on the couch next to him before you lay down, pulling his shoulder down towards you. He’s little spoon, eyes terribly confused and face flustered. You just braid his hair and lay with him for a while. Eventually, it’s so quiet, he stops shaking. He’s too confused to be upset so he relaxes instead. You’re silent the whole time and he falls asleep in your arms, unsure but happy to be anywhere but in his own head_

“Why did you do that?,” Spencer asks first. You look to his eyes as he asks for your recognition and answers. 

“The easy answer was that you needed it. We’re human, we all need to be held sometimes,” you explain. 

“What’s the hard answer?.” Spencer always managed to notice those things. The small things that most people wouldn’t catch. 

“That I wanted too,” you look over to him as you answer his question and he gives you a small smile. He nods a bit - eyes hazy and just nods. Spencer looks distantly for a while, comfortable silence falling into the air as the both of you sit and think. 

“I stopped having nightmares after that night,” Spencer confesses. You must look very surprised, Spencers chuckle soothing to your ears as he glances at your face. 

“You were having nightmares?,” you query carefully. He gestures a yes as he stares up at the ceiling, hands, moving to lay on his back, finding your hands as he looks up. You accept it and Spencer gives it a squeeze. 

“They stopped after, and I haven’t had one since you started living here part time,” Spencer admits to you in good faith. You laugh at the part-time comment and Spencer does too. 

Silence again. The longest pause between the two of you as you look at everything in the room but each other. Spencer’s expressions fall between being completely relaxed to tense, mind running a million miles at an hour though physically he was relaxed. The drugs never fixed anything, it becomes clearer as he comes down from a high but he feels better. He guesses your the reason and he can’t help but smile to himself. How ridiculous. 

You were in an odd place now it seemed. It was dark outside, though, not your average darkness. It wasn’t the kind that was eldritch - full of shadowy beings and abyss. It was the kind that just seemed to be. It was comforting in it’s own right but maybe that’s just because you were sharing that darkness with someone, someone who you didn’t hate. Someone who understood you, in all the complicated and broken pieces that you came with. Someone who wasn’t trying to fix you, but reframe you in his own mind so that things made sense. Spencer just wanted to make sense of you. 

“This is so complicated, you know that?,” You announce. Spencer hums in agreement. 

“We’re complicated people,” 

“What else do you wanna talk about?,” you ask Spencer, figuring that there was only one way this could really go. The night was the only place confessions could be heard, and you figure tonights the night. It’s really like you read Spencer’s mind because he wants to ask you so many questions. Maybe it’s a little by default that you know so much about him but he didn’t know anything about you it seemed. You were shrouded in too much mystery and maybe that’s what made him so suspicious of you back then - like he couldn’t accept your outright kindness because he always figured you had some bigger play. It was gut-wrenching to learn you were simply kind. Unabashedly kind, and you had your own reasons but most of them were simply because you were you. He was starting to see light in you, and every time he uncovered a piece there’s more of that blinding light - falling onto his face and filling it with warmth. The kinda that pricks his skin after being surrounded by the cold for so long. Maybe it was selfish to find it like this, unfair to uncover you after all this time. He couldn’t help himself, the warmth was a feeling too addicting to stop searching for. 

He feels this pang of guilt, but he knows he needs to say it before he asks anymore question. 

“I’m sorry,”

You don’t need to ask. You know what he’s apologizing for because in the last few months you’ve learned a lot about how Spencer thinks and what he does. It’s everything that the two of you shared that he’s saying sorry for. You don’t need him to apologize but you accept it. 

“Me too,” 

Silence is the loudest voice in the room. 

“Why’d Hotch let you off work?,” the question is sudden but doesn’t feel that way.

“My dad is sick and I don’t know how I feel about it. I’ve been calling home and the neighbors a lot to make sure he’s okay cause I’m not all that sure I wanna see him. I don’t feel anything for him, but it’s sad to see him crumble,” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Spencers voice shakes. That’s troubling but here you still were, watching over him almost needlessly. He knows it was your choice to do it but the way he’s been acting towards you just seemed so unwarranted now. It was okay, really it was but he couldn’t help the guilt that ate at him. You just shake your head, stopping him in his train of thought. 

“It’s okay, Spencer. Really it is, shit happens,” you seem tired, likely because you are. It’s 4am and though you don’t have anywhere to be the conversation of such an emotional scale was getting to you. It was exahusting but you tried your best to keep up with the sleep that was threatening to swallow you. 

More quietness. This time it feels affectionate. Spencer turns his body to face you, his eyes hanging over the way your lids flutter shut with sleep. He’d yell at you to go to bed normally, sometimes he’d catch you awake when you’d sleepover and do just that. But he knew that the conversation wasn’t over - the elephant in the room was still hanging over the both of you and it was just a matter of who would decide to answer the question because the two of you just can’t keep moving like this.

At some point, you would have to both fall away from this reality that you share. Neither of you wanted to, it was unspoken but, this was nice. It was comfortable, though difficult and at times clinical. It was an escape from everything because every night the both of you ended up next to each other speaking in whispers and watching tv together. Nothing but that. Nothing more or less. You wished it could go on forever, and you hoped he did too but it couldn’t. Two months just wasn’t enough time to escape. But time was up, and if this didn’t prove that then what would? It wasn’t Spencer’s relapse as much as it was why he relapsed in the first place. JJ was a reminder, and even though he’d gotten calls before, it broke him this time. It was one time too many, and it meant that time for this had run out. Before this break was gone forever, you two were just trying to find some closure.

You straighten your back out, as look at Spencer. He looks at you, as the two of you make comfortable eye contact. It’s not unnatural, or weird, or tense. You give him a genuine smile and he returns it. Nothing is left to hide so for a second the two of you just enjoy each other’s company. For maybe the first time, it’s not so secretive. It just is. 

“What do we do?,” Spencer chuckles. You shrug, sitting up straight. 

“Well, you should go to rehab, and I should probably go back home,” You say sleepily. Spencer doesn’t disagree with you but it’s difficult for him to admit it. 

“It helps if we’re both brave. So, after this, we can hold each other accountable, and be friends” You clarify. Spencer smiles brightly, his high finally having left him. He’s exhausted now, but he sits up. You stand up too, going to the kitchen. Spencer’s eyes follow you as he looks at you curiously. 

“I’m gonna make some coffee, we can sleep in the morning but we should probably start looking at centers. And I need to book a flight back home,” You state. Spencer relaxes and fights the urge he has to hold you. Look into your eyes and say thank you for everything. He figures he has all the time in the world for that now and hopes recovering will be the best thank you of all. He hopes it will be enough. 

He hopes he’s enough for you. 

___

The sun was blinding, even past the curtains it was warm and inviting. The shadow of your laptop danced along Spencers coffee table - as two mugs sat next to it for company. It was a little cliche, the way the birds chirped and the sound of the city just seemed to be so still in the morning. Well, not morning - 3pm. You and Spencer didn’t sleep all night, so really you went to bed around when it was morning.

Spencer’s chest rose and fell, as your sleeping figure was draped on top of him. It’s unclear how the two of you fell asleep like that, but at least this time it felt final. He was warm, and the way his hands rested on your back made you sleep easier. The weight of you on top of him made him relax - as if he knew he could always keep you safe from now on. Who knows if you’d ever talk about it, because when you wake up this will all be over. But the memories will always be there - and if you don’t talk about it, you’ll always have an excuse to come by, even if you didn’t need it anymore. 

You booked Spencer sometime in a rehab facility and scheduled an appointment with a therapist for him. It took all night because Spencer was rather picky about scheduling, but you didn’t mind. You booked a flight back home, and Spencer offered to go with you. You declined but you said maybe when you visit home for a happy reason he can come.

Now you’d both have reasons, just in case those stubborn feelings returned. 

The universe knew better, always did. It was too late for needing reasons by now, but it’d be a long time before either of you figured that out. That maybe friendly affections weren’t so friendly, and that at the end of the day both of you ignored the simple things. 

After all, this is a case study in body language. How it changes and grows when your heart opens to someone. 

It’s said when you’re in love with someone, their eyes dilate because of chemicals in the brain. 

Spencer’s eyes were always blown out when he wakes up, but you figure he must be tired. 

Right? 


	4. iv. yours truly

“Well, Spencer - remember you are always welcome back here but I think, for now, you have some folks waiting for you outside. Congratulations and many blessings,”

Spencer smiles at her, her name was Diane. She didn’t remind him of his mother but she was nice all the same, curly hair and dark skin and kind eyes. No, she didn’t make him think of his mom but she certainly made him think of you - and so Spencer smiles at her fondly and wishes her goodbye.

He’d technically been outside in the last 60 days, but only technically. This was the first time he’d actually been outside, just to be outside and not because his therapist recommended fresh air. He could feel the cool wind presses kisses to the nape of his neck, intertwine with his fingers as the sun brushed his skin. He could feel everything - and it was so much and so little at once but he was so grateful. He couldn’t stop smiling, the second he went outside, he just couldn’t stop smiling.

JJ hugs him first. She’s warm, her arms are small and they hold onto him tight. She’s crying and says hello and Spencer says hello back. Next is Penelope, who also cries and hugs him tighter. Emily, then Derek, then Rossi and lastly, Hotch - who gave him the proud fatherly smile that only he knows to give.

It was only missing you, and even though you told him you couldn’t go to pick him up - he finds himself so disappointed. He’s deflated but decides he can mope later.

“We’re so proud of you, Spencer,” JJs voice is shaky and a little hurt. Spencer smiles down at his shoes and nods.

“Thank you, all of you for supporting me,” Spencer says honestly. Everyone gives him a soft look.

“It’s nothing kid,” Morgan says first. The whole team nods in agreement. Spencer can’t stop smiling it seems.

“Let’s get you home,” Rossi’s voice is smooth as he speaks, everyone walking towards the SUV. Spencer looks back onto the concrete building with an odd fondness. It’s a surprisingly difficult goodbye, but it’s the most important one he’s had second to yours. So, he says bye - hoping to say an important hello to you soon.

_____

The headstone was something he would’ve liked. Every time you look at it, you can see that he’d like it even if he pretended not to at first. You chuckle for a few seconds, the flowers and the ridiculous cherry blossom tree that’s been here for as long as you can remember, it’s beautiful and unfitting. He’s dead, and that’s that and it should feel - well, it should feel more important shouldn’t it? But it’s all so indifferent. It’s all so much nothing, and didn’t mean as much as it should’ve but who’s to say right?

You wish you were crying. But you weren’t, you were just looking. Tears fall, slowly if at all while you just take it in. You were alone before but it’s different this time. In the whole world, there’s no one who can really claim you as blood. It doesn’t hurt but it’s strange to remember. When the cherry blossoms fall onto his grave you don’t resent them. He was neglectful at worst so in a way, you don’t resent him either. It was all over now, whatever happened between the both of you had simply ceased and it felt like it was time for the next chapter. It’d take a while before things settled again, but that’s okay.

“You’ve been staring awful long,” your boyfriend’s voice is comforting. It was familiar and when you heard it, you felt calm. You turn around and give him a light kiss which he returns to you, and then the both of you just stand.

“Guess so,” you managed to mumble our. His arms around your shoulder as he hugs you tight and the gesture is friendly. Most of your interactions were, intimacy only heightened enough to be dating, really.

“You ready to head to the airport,” his voice is more a statement than anything.

“Yeah, Jay - I’m ready,” you say softly. He squeezes your hand as he leads you away to the rental car.

_____

Spencer doesn’t know if he recognizes the office much these days. It might be a little easier if you were there - and you would be soon. For now, it was a familiar and worn place. Full of tattered and unclosed edges, and long nights that seemed to settle inside him forever. Spencer wasn’t unhappy there, he just didn’t know what to make of things yet, worried that time would’ve changed his mind.

He sits at his desk, the team chattering away while Spencer patiently waits on your arrival. You spent 60 days taking care of your father and your neighborhood. You called him, and wrote him letters at times because you know he loved to write back. Somehow you managed to care for him so far away - and any breakthroughs he had was because you kept pushing him to move forward. Spencer just wanted to show you he was good, more than good — he wants to finally be able to say thank you. After all this time, he feels like he owes you that much.

When you walk out of the elevator door, Spencer is the first person to hear you. It’s the weight of your walk that he’d become so attuned to, the sound of your shoes hitting the floor that he knew so well. He didn’t have to pause to make sure because he just knew. No doubts in his mind, like he’d memorized your white noise so well it’d be ingrained in him forever.

After 60 days, you were the only thing more refreshing that being outside.

The team says something, but it’s distant to Spencers ears as he gets up from his desk and walks up to you. It was that feeling again - that the two of you were the only two people on Earth. Spencer can’t bring himself for formalities - so when he sees you, and he hugs you so tight you might break, you get it.

You hug him just as tight back. This is the strongest hug he’s ever given you but it’s not about the physicality. You could feel the happiness on his skin - something that was usually always in glimpses was now in full bloom. You hug Spencer so tight that he’s all you can feel. It didn’t matter what the universe had to say.

The whole team is stunned into silence - because the last they all remember the two of you couldn’t stand each other. But, here you two were, holding the other so closely as if no one was there at all. You wanted to see them, and so did Spencer but this was different. It had to happen first - so the team just gave eachother side glances and watched the two of you.

When you pull back, you look up into Spencer’s eyes and put a hand on the side of his face. The team steps back as they watch - they swear you two are gonna kiss but you don’t. You just look into his eyes so deeply you can see into his mind and he lets you. Spencer doesn’t let anyone do that, but he lets you.

“Hey, dickhead,” You say first breaking the silence. Spencer lets out a wonderful laugh, truly jubilant.

“Hey there, lady,” Spencer says cheeky. He called you that because he knew how much it annoyed you - when people called you a lady of any kind, went back to being discplined as a kid. You hit his chest, eyes squinted as he laughs. The team just watches in awe as the both of you look at each other so intently - all of them waiting for something more to happen but it doesn’t. Neither of you seem to care to explain what went on, and it becomes more apparent as the seconds pass that it wasn’t weird to either of you. Did you two think they wouldn’t notice or was this legitimate ignorance, no one had decided yet.

“Move so I can go say hi to the team, stupid,” you say sarcastically yet lightheartedly. Spencer laughs , continuing to block your vision.

“They can say hi from here,” Spencer insists, letting you out of a hug as he moves his body to block your vision. You give him a shove which he fake whines at and you laugh again.

“Hey everyone,” You say first. Suddenly your aware of everyones expression, all equally as perplexed. You look back at them just as confused as all of you stand still, just looking at the other party with an odd suspicion. Your facial expression is truly befuddled so the team figures that you two were actually just unaware of how strange all that was. No one says anything, instead all opting to shake it off as people start to give you hugs one by one.

“Oh I’ve missed you so much, beloved Y/N,” Penelope is the first person to hug you, everyone silently appreciating the work she’s doing. You smile, returning her affectionate gesture before going back down the line of people. Hotch hugs you last, giving you a knowing look. You just shrug your shoulders, softly smiling at him while shaking your head. He blinks in acknowledgement before things can go any further. You simply shake your head at him back and he gives you a gesure, like we’ll talk about it later. 

“I’ve missed you guys too,” your voice is sincere as you speak to all of them but your eyes naturally find themself to Spencer. He gives you an encouraging smile that you return shyly and the whole team pretends not to catch wind of it.

“Hotch,” Rossis voice cuts through the room for a moment. Hotch looks at Rossi with a questioning look.

“Do we have a case today?,”

Hotch shakes his head, brows furrowed as Rossi continues.

“Well the, if everyones free - I think it’s long overdue we have some celebrations for both of you,” Rossi annouces. The team lets out a string of celebratory noise but you’re confused - unsure as to why they were celebrating you. You were off-grid for the last few months, so they couldn’t have known about what you had been doing. A sixth sense went off in your head as you looked over to Penelope who was definitely avoiding eye contact now. You wanna roll your eyes but who could ever be really angry at Garcia of all people?

“Now wait - I know why we’re celebrating this dickhead over here,” you say looking to Spencer “but, why would we be celebrating me at this occasion?,” You said suspiciously. The whole team looked at Garcia, who immediately folded under the weight of all that pressure. You gave her a look of faux annoyance as she spoke quickly.

“I know you said you were supposed to be off-the-grid, but I worry okay? And when I worry, you know what I do? Well, other than watch cute videos of bird doing tricks -”

“Birds can do tricks?,” JJ asks laughing.

“Birds are extremely intelligent creatures - they display traits like good memory, extensive communication, the ability to plan ahead, among other things that we associate primarily with intelligence. They’re also able to complete problems and task that are far beyond that of what we’d call animal instinct, so it’s actually very easy to teach birds to do tricks,” Spencer says anecdotally. Your eyes fill with affection as you hear him talk and he manages to give you a shy smile back. Emily looks incredulously at the rest of the team but they all shake their head, telling her to leave it.

“Yes, birds can do tricks. Now as I was saying - when I worry I go and do research so I started digging, not to intrude - just to make sure you were okay you know and I found that you’d been fundraising all that money for kids in your neighboorhood and I got so excited because that’s so lovely, you know? You’re so lovely and I love you,” Garcia says rambling. You can’t help but smile at her, looking down at your shoes embarassed.

“Did you find anything else?”

“No no, I don’t intrude remember - just saw you in the local paper with your apron and read the article about how you handmade all those desserts and it was just really heartwarming you know, good for the soul,” Penelope explains dramatically. You laugh a little bit, scratching the back of your neck while your cheeks flush.

“Wouldn’t take you for a baker, mama,” Derek says laughing. You stick your tongue out him and Spencer ignores how jealousy floods in his chest. Weird.

“I learned from this woman named Miss Bell, she was like - the neighborhood auntie. Welcomed everyone in and taught me to bake so I’d have something to do when I got bored, instead of you know - get in trouble,”

“You were a troublemaker as a kid?,” Emily asks surprised. You can’t help your roar of laughter, your stomach hurt from how hard you were giggling.

“I would give baby Morgan a run for his goddamn money, let’s just say that,” you say sarcastically.

“That bad?,” Rossi questions. You just nod, a smile painted on your face.

“Absolutely that bad,”

“You’re a baker, and after all this time I haven’t recieve a single cake - frankly Y/N, I’m devestated,” Rossi says dramatically. The whole team laughs as you shake your head.

“Give me a hall pass on being late tonight, and I can bring one in,” you say, smiling. Rossi gives you a nod of approval.

“Now it’s really a party,”

“Sure is. Spence, you wanna come over and come bake this cake with me?,” You say, not really wanting to bake alone since your boyfriend was gonna be busy tonight. Spencer grins ear to ear.

“I’m definitely not gonna be very helpful, but yeah I’d love to,” Spencer annouces. The team gives The Look™ to each other. Morgan rolls his eyes, speaking up first.

“I don’t remember you and pretty boy being so cool last time we all saw eachother,” Morgan annouces, pointing out to everyone else what was already obvious. You furrow your brows at him, Spencer doing the same. Were you two…? You two were definitely mirroring each other and didn’t notice. Jesus.

“We kept running into each other after we took off for the first few weeks,” It’s not a lie, but it’s not true either. Spencer gives you a mental high-five.

“Turns out we have a lot in common,” Spencer adds, giving his tight-lipped smile (:]) to Morgan. Derek puts his hands up in defense

“Just curious,” Morgan says, easing up. The both of you just look at each other briefly before looking away - neither of you has spoken about those two months since then and you certainly planned to keep it that way.

“We all deserve a break - and I’m happy to welcome both of you back. So go home, wind down, and get ready. I’ll see you all at the party,” Hotch annouces, basically telling everyone to fuck off and go home. You look at Spencer, making sure he’s following you as you walk into the elevator and down into the parking lot.

___  
  


“Whose this again?,” Spencer asks, yelling over the speakers a bit as you mix in some sprinkles for the batter of your cake. You twirl around to the sound of Artic Monkeys playing in your kitchen. The oven makes a little beep sound to tell you it’s pre-heated and you flash Spencer a grin as you mouth the lyrics

“Artic Monkeys!,” You say, pouring your batter into greased up pans, as Spencer sits next to you on the kitchen counter. You groove to the music, singing the lyrics with a faux-british accent.

“And I go crazy ‘cause here isn’t where I wanna be ! And satisfaction feels like a distant memory ~” you laugh aloud as you sing the lyrics of the song. Spencer watches you carefully, seeing the way you sway your hips to the music - closing your eyes and getting visbly excited when a part you like comes on. The whole thing was so domestic, you alone in your kitchen with Spencer singing your favorite song. It was invitng, and cozy. It was different.

In the months you and Spencer could only talk through letters and phone calls - all your conversations started to be more meaningful in the way only subtext could make it. Intimacy can’t be represented by touches, most days. There’s more intimacy in moments like these - jokes whispered to each other at serious events and little lingering looks. You were both so oblivious, and maybe that’s why it works. Those conversations shared over a secret so powerful - you’d be foolish to not know someone could fall in love off that.

No harm, no foul. If no one knows - not even you two, the universe could remain in tact. Otherwise, it was likely that both of you were soon to be unraveled. It wasn’t for either of you to decide but - Spencer keeps having this nagging feeling.

He hasn’t had it since you told him you had a boyfriend - he managed to deal with it just fine but it keeps coming to him. Sometimes at the end of phone calls, or when he’d finish writing letters. It was like anytime an ending crossed paths with him - he had this nagging feeling about making sure you would still be there. Maybe it was the addiction talking, the fear of being alone again but it just felt different. He couldn’t be sure why.

“Alright - cake is in the oven. I gotta go get ready, can you take it out and cool it down when it’s done? I’ll frost it once I’m dressed,” you say to Spencer, washing your hands under the sink. He just nods for you, giving you smile.

“You already know where everything is, and I have some of your stuff in my room from before so just grab anything you might need! Okay, gonna go shower,” you say, shuffling into the bathroom before throwing your apron at him. Spencer chuckles before catching it - watching as you scurry away into the bathroom.

Spencer sits on your couch when you leave. He hears you sing in the shower and can’t contain his giggle. He’s reading, a book that his mom recommended to him forever ago that he never got around to. He’d probably finish in the time that you’d come out, he figures.

It’s silent for a while. Spencer reads and you shower, and the apartment is filled with a pleasant sense of the evening. It’s nice to be here, kind of like before but Spencer shakes the thought out of his mind before wiping his face.

His ears become alert to the sound of the key unlocking, and before he panics too much he reminds himself you gave your boyfriend a key to your place recently. Spencer sighs as he sees him walk in the door and gives him a small wave. Jay smiles at him brightly, going up to Spencer with a welcoming look.

“Spencer, right? Good to meet you, man! I’ve heard so much about you, it doesn’t feel like the first time, heh,” your boyfriend repeats to him. Spencer laugh, shaking his hand.

“I hope all good things,” Spencer says quietly, chuckling. Your boyfriend gives him a pat on the back before going to the kitchen. He peers at the cake on the counter and smiles at it, before looking up at Spencer again. He has a knowing smile written on his face, opening his mouth to talk to Spencer.

“Spencer, you’re a good man, you know that right?,”

Spencer looks up at him confused, eyes furrowed and nods slowly. He grabs his stuff out of the drawer of Y/N’s apartment, just some tools he let her borrow a while back. He looks to Spencer and holds eye-contact before laughing. He’s suprised that Spencer is just as oblivious as you, but he can’t say it doesn’t feel like destiny. He shoots Spencer a soft grin, shaking his head in the process.

“Remember to take care of Y/N, always - and remember you can always come to me if you need anything,” his words are ominious and Spencer just shoots him a confused look before nodding. He beams at Spencer, tucking his tools away in his bag before giving Spencer.

“Tell Y/N I say hello! I’m gonna head back out,” he calls out to Spencer. Spencer shouts back a goodbye as he hears the door shut close.

Like clockwork it feels like, you pop out of the bathroom fully dressed and ready to go. Spencer feels his heartbeat in his eardrums as his eyes fall onto your sihloutte, body adorned in a dress that managed to hug your body in all the prettiest ways. It was lavender, your make-up pretty golds and neautral browns - lashes long and fluttering against your eyes as you blink them getting re-adjusted to the feeling. You give Spencer a twirl, before smiling at him with a toothy grin.

“We match!,” you’re so genuinely excited as you see Spencer look down at his own attire. Your dress matches the lavender shirt that he liked so much. Spencer can’t help the way his eyes flooded with endearment at your excitment.

“That dress is too pretty to frost a cake in, Y/N,” Spencer says softly. He hears the sound of your feet pad on the floor, you haven’t put your heels on yet. You walk over to the cake and grab a spatula and the frosting you had Spencer make earlier on.

“No dress is too pretty for cake, Spencer. How the hell do you think people get married?,” You argue back, confidently. Spencer giggles at your comment but can’t disagree. He walks up to you as you frost the cake. It’s the firs time he’s noticed how much taller he is then you. You seem so tiny now, he isn’t sure what to make of it. He leans over your shoulder as you frost and stack the cakes up.

“Need any help?,” Spencer inquires, throat closing up as he realizes the words that almost come out of his mouth. He nearly called you love - and it came out so easily he’s startled. You shake your head no as Spencer finds himself dazed.

“With this? No. But you have to help me put my heels on because I can’t get the clasp on them on right ever,” you say softly. Spencer nods, looking for your shoes which he finds next to the futon he sat on earlier.

You finish frosting the cake before sitting down on the futon next to Spencer. He smiles at you, as he takes your shoes out of their box. You make eye-contact as Spencer holds your leg, easing your feet into the uncomfortable looking heels. You watch his as he works with the clasp of them, pulling the strap through and readjusting them so that their tight. The moment is too close for comfort but you’d be damned before you thought of moving. Spencers eyes find yours for a second as the two of you smile at eachother for a while. Spencer places a hand on your calf, and you place one of his face and it feels like those two blissful months. Still difficult, and heartwrenching but for different reasons that you couldn’t be sure of yet.

“Ready to go?,” Spencer asks, cutting the tension. You nod halfheartedly.

“Do I look okay?,”

Spencer pauses. He takes a deep breath before his eyes settle on your face, your shoulders, your hair. He takes you for a few seconds, before he replies.

“Perfect. You look perfect,”

__

Rossi really knew how to threw a party. It was mostly the team and their spouses collectively, but what it was lacking in size it up for in fancy decor and lighting. You can’t imagine how long it took for him to set-up, feeling overwhelmed with just how nice everything looked.

You and Spencer sorta forgot that you two were the ones being celebrated, so when everyone popped over with gifts of all kinds and alcohol - it was a little overwhelming. Nonetheless, you felt grateful. You hadn’t realized how much you missed being around the team until it hit you like this.

Most of the night was spent catching up - drinking and talking until the early hours of the next day. You told everyone about how life was back home, what it was like to volunteer with all the kids and catch up on old folks. Everyone was surprised you ended up a fed, you were such a shithead kid they wouldn’t have figured it otherwise. You told them about how they cleaned up the river you used to live next to, and about how the old shopping center closed down finally. You talked with them, drinking wine and laughing until the sun threatened to come up. You’d missed everyone so much, the sound of their laughter so soothing to your aching ears.

Spencer told them stories too, about all the things he saw in rehab. He told them about the scheduling and all the paintings he did, about the different people he met who were all their own brand of strange. He told a ghost story that scared the shit out of you even though you’d heard it before. Everyone was together - joking with each other like tomorrow was unimportant.

All night was ephemeral. Sometimes certain thing exist to be just that - gone and back in a matter of seconds. Sometimes things that are so volatile in nature are the most lovely - and this night was the clearest example. It was all ending, the spark had gone out and everyone was about ready to call it quits.

“One last slow song, as requested by our lovely tech analyst,” Rossi announces. Garcia lets our a drunken giggle as she whisks Morgan onto the dance floor.

You had been whisked away by Hotch and Spencer by Emily. You figure now was the time that Hotch was referring to as later. He leans into your ear and whispers.

“What happened?,”

The question is relative. It means a lot of things, like how are you and what happened when you disappeared for so many months, how will I explain all that to the people above me. Hotch knows, he always does, so when he asks you that - you know have to be totally honest.

“I can’t disclose the first two months yet but you can write that I was taking care of my sick dad - he passed away when I was home,” you explain softly. Hotch pulls away to look at you and you give him a sincere smile.

“I’m okay. I don’t feel much, really. About him at least,” You say, your word choice sticking out to Hotch as the two of you swayed to music. Hotch nods at your honesty.

“I’m glad you’re okay, welcome back,”

“Thanks, Hotch. I didn’t take you for a dancer,” you say laughing quietly. Aaron shoots you a small smile.

“Hope you don’t mind if I steal your dance partner real quick,” comes Spencers voice. Hotch shakes his head, passing your hand off to Spencer whose quick to shoo Hotch away. He gives you a knowing look before he goes to talk to Rossi about what you could only assume to be a case.

“Hey, you,” you say softly. Spencer hands find the lower part of your back, as he shuffles his feet. He holds you close as he sways to the music and you find your face instinctively in his chest. This was just comfortable, of course. Nothing more or less.

“I missed them,” you speak first. Spencer holds you a little tighter before looking at you, as you looked up at him.

“Did you miss me?,” he asks, tongue-in-cheek. You roll your eyes, laying back down as the two of you continue to sway.

“I alway miss you, dickhead,”

“Always?,” Spencer asks you. He chews on the inside of his lips - the question was heavy though it stems form something else. That was always the case for you two it seemed. You hold your head up to see Spencer, look him in his eyes. You always looked into him, you felt the way his hands grip on your waist as if you were going to fall away and you just smile.

“Always, Spencer.”

He gives you a small smile in return.

“Well that’s good. I always miss you too and uh - didn’t want it to be weird, you know,” He says a little sarcastically. You try to control your laughter but it comes to you in fitst, breaking the lovely moment in the best way. Your heads thrown back as Spencer gives you a few laughs himself, he watches the way your hair falls behind you. He’s seen you laugh before, and maybe it’s the sangria talking but this was different. You were laughing till your stomach hurt, wiping tears from underneath your eyes to prevent your makeup from smudging too much. The sound of your voice in his ears was sweet, so sweet it could rot all his teeth. The way your whole body relaxes him as you continue to let out soft giggles of appreciation, over a joke so simple. Spencer is smiling but he gets this feeling again. A gnawing one like he’s gonna be sick.

And suddenly, so suddenly - Spencer gets it.

It’s hard to describe the feeling that you’re in love with someone. Every writer, story-teller, musician, poet - everyone has tried so hard to describe the feeling of falling in love. The act of falling in love is so convoluted, it nears fucking impossible. Spencer doesn’t know if he can explain what it feels to know that you’ve fallen in love with someone who once to you was so impossible but he feels it. He feels it so much in every part of him he feels like he’s gonna pass out.

For Spencer Reid, falling in love with you was like waking up. Just like waking up, because when Spencer Reid thought of you he thought of everything that might make tomorrow. For 60 days, he thought of you just waiting for the last tomorrow to see it. When we wake up, we are making a promise to live another - just to see what happens. When we wake up, we are promising the universe that we are going to try and give it another chance. When we wake up, we go to sleep trying to fall in love with the universe all over again. Dreams are a prophecy, but waking up was a promise. Spencer Reid realizing he’s fallen in love with you was a promise to the universe that he would keep waking up - and when he was awake, he would go to sleep with intent to do it all over again. You weren’t his oxygen, but you were all 5 of his senses. You were the thing that made him experience life because he wanted too. Spencer Reid spent so many fucking hours thinking about what it would be like if he just didn’t wake up. He wondered what it would be like to dream of endless darkness for so long.

Spencer used to dream of endless darkness. He prayed for the abyss to swallow him in his sleep.

But then you came, and reminded Spencer to wake up. And suddenly, the darkness was gone and he was holding onto thoughts of you.

Spencer _woke up_ , and pulled himself out of the darkness for you.

“Y/N,” Spencer voice can only manage a whisper as he wakes your sleepy figure. You flutter your eyes up at him and Spencer looks at you with love. Love is written clearly on his expression but he doesn’t know if you can see it. You smile at him and Spencer loves you. Spencer loves you so fucking much and he has no clue what to say, or how to say it yet and even though he doesn’t know if it’s necessary he feels it so much. He needs to tell you, just not yet.

“Yes?,” your voice is small. Spencer pushes hair out of your face, your sleepy and buzzed face smiling at him. Spencer’s heart aches. Spencer Reid heart aches for you, and only you.

“Wake up, it’s time to go home,”

“Okay,” you say sleepily. You tangle your hand in Spencer’s hands and the whole universe falls beneath his feet.

What the fuck was he gonna do?


	5. v. love is a virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spencer realizes how deep he’s fallen, and reads something that changes his plans of confession. Love is beautiful, apparently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heres a link to the song that reader sends to spencer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-rj_Ur-RAAs

He overhears you in the bullpen. You’re not sad when you talk about it, and maybe he was a little too hopeful to hear you clearly but you sounded relieved. He hopes you’re relieved but he doesn’t know how to deal with that feeling. He doesn’t feel sorry for himself but he could drown in the relief when you say you broke up with Jay. A weight off of his shoulders, off of his consciousness. For a moment he wasn’t so damn restless. You were single but he doesn’t know what that changed. Everything felt different, shit everything was different. The world that he’d come to know was shattered underneath the weight of this feeling. 

“Why’d you two break up?,” JJ asks. She’s curious, but Spencers hanging on your voice for the answer. His whole body relaxes. You pause, maybe you’re shrugging. 

“I don’t know - I think we both realized that this wasn’t gonna be long-term but we’ll always be cool. He’s a really good guy, but we have different wants, I think,” you say casually. You don’t sound sad. 

“You don’t seem upset,” Prentiss comments. Spencers happy he’s not delusional. 

“I’m not. The whole thing was really mutual and I loved him but not as anything more than friends really and he feels the same so I’m okay,” You say casually. He doesn’t hear much else, so he walks away before you can turn the corner and see him. 

Rain beats on the windows when Spencer walks away. It’s been raining for days now, the darkness seemed to be encompassing but it was nice. Spencer liked rain, watching it when he needed to think and it seems like he was having to do that more often these days. Rain wasn’t somber to Spencer, as much as it was a sobering reminder. Rain made him think of you, but most things did so he isn’t sure if it’s any deeper than that. Everything made Spencer think of you. 

Spencer couldn’t stop himself from thinking of you. It was a crushing realization that you were in love with someone and that you would do anything to make them happy. It was always apart of him, he couldn’t catch a break without being reminded of how much he adored you. Things continued as normal but he was working hard to make sure of that. He didn’t want to lose you, or hurt you so he tried so hard to make sure things were okay, even if it killed him slowly. He wanted to call you his, because in his heart of hearts, he wanted you to think of him as yours. Spencer was overwhelmed every time he saw you because it was you. You were you and he’d give you everything if you asked for it. He would rob the stars in the sky for you, he would steal the sun for you to keep, he would do anything to make you happy. That realization was crushing and Spencer was unsure if you had any clue.

__

The work day passes normally. Everyone was ready to go home, though some of the team wanted to hang at O’Keefes for a drink but you and Spencer passed. They all gave each other knowing looks, that Spencer became aware of when he realized he liked you. You still seemed clueless, and that was a scary enough thought. Spencer just flushed as he sees everyone walk out to the elevator, leaving you and him alone for the night. 

“Any special plans, Spence?,” you ask Spencer, fiddling with the strap of your bag as you two waited for the next elevator to come. Spencer shakes his head, looking at your stance and smiling. The bag was too big for you, clearly too heavy on your shoulders but he knew you’d never get rid of it. It was a thing about you he’d picked up from before. 

“Not really, no. Might go home and watch some TV, though I don’t know what,” Spencer replies thoughtfully. You nod in understanding, letting out a huff of frustration as you let go of your bag problem. Spencer just chuckles as he stands in front of you, fixing up the buckle before the strap. You look up at him with a grateful grin, and he feels his heart pound. Love, love, love on his mind when he looks at you. He feels a bit sick, but he figures it’s a symptom that seems to swallo him. 

You wrap your arms around Spencer and lay your face in his chest.He wonders if you can hear how hard his heart is pounding but it doesn’t seem like you notice. You nuzzle into him, and it seems to be so subconscious for you. He wants to ask himself if this was friends did but he knew better - this was too complicated for such simple questions. He hugs you back, taking a breath and you pull away and look up at him. His eyes are a pretty green, spots of brown speckling them but they look hazel in the light. You’d see them sometimes when he woke up and they’d fall under the sunlight. You always liked them and maybe you look too long, so you pull away. Spencer wishes you didn’t but the moments gone before he can protest. 

The elevator dings. The doors both open as the two of you travel down together. Spencer wants to offer you some company but he can’t tell himself too when he knows his own intentions. 

____

Spencer was alone. It was the wordless night that seemed to eat at him, even though the clock had only barely scraped by to 11. Lately, Spencer doesn’t have trouble sleeping but it seems like that would change soon. Thoughts of you were cocoon his thoughts. He felt so stuck, because he wants to tell you how he feels - but the risk is too great. Too much of a burden to bear because he has no clue about how you feel. He assumes you don’t return those feelings but if you did - he wasn’t sure if anything would change. That reality is far more crushing than not knowing at all. 

One thing Spencer did when he was thinking of you was read your letters to him. Those letters were more important for his sanity than he wanted to admit. You told him of everything, gave him daily reminders of why he needed to see the world again. Your return was more than waited on, but prayed for. A selfless act in self-preservation on your behalf, and a brave one on Spencers. 

The first letter dates a few weeks after Spencer was in rehab. You’re so different in writing, maybe more honest because you aren’t thinking so much. Spencer doesn’t know how to explain it but he likes the way you write. 

_Dear Genius,_

_Congrats on a whole 3 weeks!! I’m so proud of you, and I’m happy to hear you like group therapy. I loved your clown painting, by the way and I want it framed for my apartment ASAP - seriously I had no clue you were so good at art. I also want pictures of when you guys have group therapy with those service dogs because that is so cute!!! Excited for the next letter just for that._

_Updates on my life are pretty boring but you asked so I’ll deliver. My dad is doing okay right now. We’ve talked a lot and he’s sorta mulled over my chilhood and apologized about well… all of it. It was a bit much, to be honest but thats okay. I’ll get through it, especially when I have these letters to look forward too. I met someone sorta too, he’s from DC but he moved into my neighborhood. He’s nice, but who knows, you know?_

_Also, you told me to keep sending you new music to listen too, but honestly I just wanna send you radio hits. You should listen to The-Weeknd, maybe Starboy? I mostly just wanna see how you feel about stuff people listen to on the car radio haha. I don’t know, but either way, hope you like the song._

_Anyways, I love you and I’m looking forward to our next correspondence. Good luck always, and keep yourself strong._

_Best Wishes,_

_Y/N_

Spencer smiles big. The kind of smile that reaches the lines in his eyes and makes his whole body relax. He replies with what you ask for, he remembers. He had a picture of him with an Australian Shepherd from therapy that you framed and put on your desk. He remembers how much you liked it, though he wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t sent you the clown painting yet because it seemed to slip his mind but he reminds himself to give it to you. He looks through more letters, reading the different one-sided exchanges. He reads your weekly updates about the community mural that you painted with all the kids while you were back home. He reads about the different volunteers, and how your childhood friend who you lost touch with had moved back and had a baby. Her name was Ellie, and you loved her. He comes across the letter where your dad passed away, only a month into your trip. 

_Dear Spencer,_

_Hey kid. I’m happy to hear about your progress!! I know it’s been tough because you’ve hit that middle slump but I know you. I know you’ll get through, it just takes time and you’re doing great keeping your head above water. I love you and I’m so proud of you, you’re gonna go far._

_I know I sound different here, it’s because my dad passed away last night. He passed quietly, stubborn bastard. I cried, more than I was expecting. He’s the last person of blood who would claim me as family and he just sorta disappeared. It’s just weird, how little i seem to feel. I was sad but it was weird, more emptying than anything but in a fucked up way I was relieved. I don’t know. I suppose it’s complicated_

_It made me think of you, in a weird way, I guess. You told me to send you music and I guess this is my indirect way of telling you stuff, but you should listen to 1000 times by Sarah Barielles. I don’t really know what to make of it but thanks for being a good friend and I’m grateful for what we have as friends always. You’re a good person, Spencer._

_Anyways, let me know if anything changes and good luck next week. I miss you, but I know we’ll see eachother again soon and things will be good. Keep sending me pictures of Dianes cat also because she’s so cute and I love her. Thanks for everything._

_Love always,_

_Y/N_

Spencer looks at the song you sent. He normally listens to every single one but that week he had already used up all of his computer time to read the articles from your local newspaper and he never got a chance too after that. He figures now was a good time, always having a piece of you when he got that music. Even if the song wasn’t his style, it made him think of you and for him that was most than enough. It was a blessing in a lot of ways to have a part of you that only he knew of. It was music anyone could listen to but the meaning was his alone. Spencer opens up his laptop and types in the song title. He presses play, awaiting whatever pop ballad you had waiting for him

Then the lyrics start to play and Spencer feels sick,” 

“Again again I let it go, let it go/ Cover my mouth don’t let a single word slip/ Out wouldn’t wanna tell you, no tell you, no/ Nothing could be worse than the risk of/ Losing what I don’t have now,” 

Shit. 

Spencers heart drops to the bottom of his stomach. He feels like he’s going to die, and he doesn’t know how else to explain this feeling of detriment. You told Spencer you loved him _a full month_ before he even realized how far deep he was and he just… didn’t acknowledge it. Spencer wanted to throw up, every visceral feeling of panic banging on the inside of his chest and threatens to crush his heart under the weight. Spencer could feel it in his throat, as he scrambles to find his phone your contact, dialing your number as he feels the drum of his heartbeat. His fingers shake as he hears you pick up on the other side.

“Hello?,” 

Your voice makes Spencer ache. Spencer breathes out, unable to speak for a few seconds. You look confused on the other side of the phone. 

“Spencer?,”

Your voice is all Spencer hears yet your words feel distant. His voice is abysmal and small when he speaks - the words trapped in the maze of thoughts, unable to be expressed correctly. Spencer coughs before he talks, trying to clear his airways even though nothing was really wrong. 

“Are you home and are you busy?,” Spencer asks, tears threatening to run down his face before his voice can give out 

“I’m home but I’m not busy, why? Is everything okay? ,” Panic is subtle in your voice, Spencer swallows thickly. 

“Yeah, yeah - I’m okay. Can I come over?,” Spencer asks, voice quiet. 

“Of course, Spencer. See you soon, and drive safe - the weather is still bad so you gotta be careful,” you say warmly. 

“Yeah, of course. See you soon,” Spencer replies. The line clicks and Spencer stares into his phone. He picks his care keys up and puts on a jacket, knowing he’d still get caught up in the rain. 

____

The rain is heavier than it was before. It was late, the clock reads 11:45 and Spencer can’t see much as water spills from the grey clouds that hung over his head. It was peaceful, almost. When you ignore the feeling of imminent panic and anxiety that washes over him, the rain is soothing to his ears as heavy as it. Spencer hands around the steering wheel are gripped tight enough to make the pads of his fingers white. His skin is hot, chest covered in a light sheen of sweat as he thinks of what’s going to happen when he gets there - or moreso, if anything has happened. Spencer’s thoughts are deafened by his own uncertainty - he owes it to you to tell you but if it’s too late for him he may never come back from that. He needed to tell you because you deserved to know but the thought of nothing happening hurts him. He’d rather you didn’t know but that’s not fair.

Spencer’s thoughts of your ex-boyfriend pop up and he feels guilty. He’s tearing himself to pieces finding every reason in the world not to tell you, but he had to make the right choice because you were braver than he could ever be. He wants to show you he’s changed and that he won’t run from this. He refused to run from you. 

His hands shake when he knocks. His hair is wet and the water seems to soak through parts of his old jacket. He looked like a mess he was sure but it didn’t matter. Spencer was so anxious, he doesn’t remember the last time he ever felt this anxious. 

When you open the door with a smile - that’s when Spencer knows you were the love of his life. He just looked at you, looks at you with sunken eyes that flit over your face with a feeling you can’t explain. Spencer needed you, maybe more than you needed him. 

“Hey, Spencer,” You say warmly. Spencer walks inside and you close the door behind him. He looks at you for a second, taking his jacket off as he just looks to you in silence. He wants to spit the words out, he wants to say them so the two of you can get caught up together. Spencer wants to be yours, and for you to be his and then some. Spencer loves you. 

“What’s up?,” you ask quietly, seating yourself next to Spence whose found himself a spot on the couch. You grab his hands and play with his fingers for a few seconds, the touch is just so damn intimate. You loved Spencer, so much more than you could explain. You had that little anxious bubble in your chest about what could happen - that ‘maybe’ that brought you so many restless nights. You wondered if today was the day but before you go to dismiss the thought, you feel Spencers hands under your chin. He lifts your face up, eyes examining your face carefully. His scruff was nice, he looked different than before. 

Before you can ask, Spencer kisses you. It’s out of character, and in many ways out of place for him. He’s not the type to kiss anyone out of the blue but he doesn’t know else to break the tension with any language other than physical. It’s the way his lips melt to yours, the way you kiss him back immediately, the way his lips have a way of holding yours. The way his hands hold your face up. It was everything that made you remember that Spencer was fucking kiss you. Kissing you like he was the reason he was breathing. Curled around your very existence, with his lips giving you their every secret. This kiss was an exchange in secrets, but more than an assurance. Spencer kisses you, and you kiss him back and the whole universe is still. 

When Spencer pulls away, you’re more than speechless. You look at Spencer, looking in his eyes for regret and you find none. Solace, maybe but no regret. You just look down, too scared to look at him again but he stops you, lifting your face up again. 

“Don’t hide from me please,” Spencer croaks “I need to look at you,” 

“Why?,” 

“To make sure you’re real,” Spencers confession makes your body heat up. 

“What’s gotten into you?,” you laugh nervously. You think Spencer will follow in suit, going back to being silly with you like normal but he doesn’t falter. He holds both of your hands and looks down, your eyes still fixated on him. Spencer sighs. 

“I read your letter, from when your dad died. I never had a chance to listen to that song, but I did. I normally did but that one somehow managed to miss me and..,” he trails off, like his thoughts are moving too fast for him to say what he wants to. You swallow thickly. So he knows, you figure. 

“It’s okay if you don’t, you know, return those feelings,” your voice chokes out. Spencer laughs. 

“You’d be a fool to think something like that,” Spencer says earnestly. You choke a little violently. 

“Oh?,” 

Spencer turns to look at you again. His eyes are full of something, and this time you know the feeling. You give it to him often, that look of adoration That “You’re so stupid, please marry me,” look you give to the person you want to love most in this life. 

“My whole life, I couldn’t afford to believe in anything related to destiny. I didn’t believe in miracles, or destiny, or a lot of other things for a long time. Sometimes I still don’t, like when cases go so bad that the whole team is left with that hollow feeling,” Spencer starts “I try my best to remember joy and happiness, and sometimes I do believe in miracles but it’s not everyday. Sometimes the pain was just too heavy,” 

“When I started taking dilaudid again, I was just trying to cope with the pain. My life can feel like a series of unfortunate events sometimes,” Spencer says softly. The grip he has on your hands tightens just a little bit. 

“I’ve been wanting to give you this confession for weeks, but like always you’ve proved to be more brave than I could ever be. Of course you figured it out first, who could be surprised but,” Spencer pauses for a second. 

“You’re the love of my life. Maybe it’s too much to say right now, maybe enough time hasn’t passed for me to decide that but if I said anything less I’d be lying to you, and I don’t want to lie to you ever again,” Spencers voice is barely above a whisper. 

“Y/N, you’re the only woman I could ever love this much. Those two months, those words that you gave me are what kept me sane. It was thoughts of your voice and your touch that kept me alive. It was your kindness that gave me strength, your love that gave me courage. It was you that reminded me of what it feels like to have hope, and perhaps even believe in miracles and destiny,” Spencers crying and so are you, but you still managed to hold eachother. 

“I’m wholly in love with you. I really don’t know how to say anything else. Please be mine because for now, loving you is all I really want to do,” Spencer says the last part with a small voice. The butterflies in your stomach make it hard for you to speak and you’re crying so much you have a headache. You want to kiss him, and say something back but for now you’re just crying a little bit. You’d clear all the grey clouds in the world to give Spencer some sunshine. 

“It’s always been you, dickhead,” you say through giggles. Spencer loves the sound of your laugh, if he could he would bottle up and keep it for himself to wear around his neck. Spencer wants to wear your name around your neck so the whole world knew he was yours and you were his. 

You can’t hold yourself back from moving into Spencer’s lap, bare thighs over his legs as you lean into his neck. You adored Spencer and you knew that for so long, but you always figured he didn’t feel the same. That song was your confession, and when he didn’t listen you always figured he didn’t feel it. Miscommunication is a hell of a drug, you figure. You were here now, wrapped in Spencer and more than ready to give him all of you. You adored Spencer, the way his mind worked full of cogs and his heart was full of affection. It was everything Spencer did when he was getting better, giving you purpose. Spencer made you feel at ease, always. Even when bad things seemed to swallow you up, Spencer gave you ease. 

You look up at Spencer, there are small tears in your eyes when you do. You straddle his lap, and kiss him again. Holding your waist, Spencer smiles. He’s so grateful to be touching you like this. Spencer wants all of you to himself and he’d be damned if he was selfish for it. 

“Spencer,” your voice is small, but happy. Spencer hums, wrapped up in the way the two of you kiss for him to be upset. You look up at him, into him in the way only you can and speak again. 

“Make love to me,” your question is quiet. Spencer immediately became a little unsteady but he understood your request. That term “make love,” used to gross you out but you got it now. Sex and love are different - but sometimes you used sex to make love. To feel someone so close to you like that, you wanted to make love with Spencer. You wanted to have marks all over your skin so that the sight of him could be there forever, and for him to fuck you like you were the only thing he needed. Spencer wanted to make you feel wanted, and you wanted him to want you all the same. So, Spencer smiles, places a hand on boths sides of your face and kisses you slowly. Spencer loves you, adores you and wants to make you feel beautiful. 

“You wanna go to your room?,” Spencer asks. You nod, and Spencer lifts you up before carrying you. You’re wrapped around him, yelping at his surprising strength. 

Spencer lays you down, eyes glassy as he looks at your figure. He’s admiring you - he wants to make you feel pretty. You’re the prettiest woman in the world to him, and all he wants to do is make you feel it. He leans into you, his body pressed to yours as your legs are tangled. Spencer always cradles your face when he kisses you, as if he’s trying to hold you as close to him as possible. Spencer treats you like glass, his touch an ink stain leaving your body with permanent color as he kisses you. His tongue pushes past your lips softly, before pulling back. His fingers are so nimble, tugging with the sides of your shirt, staving himself off as he feels your bare thighs. 

His mouth moves to your neck, peppering kisses along the sides of the column of your throat. He grips your thighs, feeling your wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer. Spencer tugs at the ends of your shirt, detaching from you so you can get it off. He chokes at the sight of you without your top on and you can’t help but hide your face. Spencer’s face leans in, taking your nipple in his while he uses his free hand to gently brush against the other one. 

“You’re beautiful, you look so good like this,” Spencer comments. A soft whine escapes your lips at the combination of words and Spencers touch. He was sweet with every movement but damn he had way too many clothes on. 

“Spence, take it off,” you whine. Spencer gives you a small laugh, taking off his shirt before hovering over you again. His body was surprisingly toned from being out in the field and you definitely weren’t upset about seeing it. Your hands find their way around his waist, touching his skin in appreciation. He gives you a shy smile, before his head ducks down again, moving to kiss down past your breasts to your stomach and above your naval. His kisses are gentle, mouth careful in leaving them in as many places as possible. He stops when he ghosts his mouth over your panties, placing a kiss on your vulva - a wet spot formed on the light color. Spencer moves to kiss your thighs, getting close to your center and taking his time with it. Small hickies take place all along your skin, Spencer wanted to mark the word “mine,” into your skin with his mouth. He wanted you to think of him always, but especially when you were doing this. 

Your breaths are staggered and heavy, as Spencer rubs you down with his hands - palms massaging your legs as he touched you. For the first time in your life, when someone touched you could feel how much they meant it. Maybe it’s because Spencer manages to make things you’ve felt before feel different - he makes everything feel better. 

Spencer slides your panties down your legs carefully. His eyes are low when he sees your clit, sensitive and aching for his attention. He places a kiss on it first before he sticks his tongue out flat for you. Your fingers grip his hair immediately, legs wrapped around his shoulders where you could see him shift his weight to unzip his jeans and get himself off which only worked you up farther. Spencer eats you out like he’s been starved of you his whole life, head rhythmic as he brings you to your orgasm and slows down. He’s making an attempt to savor you but enjoys the sound of irritation you make every time he stops, something he’d explore farther at a later date. You’d gotten head before but it always came off as a favor and not like your partner wanted to do it for you. Spencer made sure you knew he wanted just as much as you did. 

You orgasm in Spencer mouth twice in borderline succession as Spencer refuses to pull away, smiling as he holds your hips down and makes your whole body shiver. You have to catch your breath when he finally spares you and gives you a toothy-boyish grin of satisfaction that you only ever saw when he beats you in a card game. You look down at him adoringly, wanting to cry at how lucky you felt. You pull him to kiss you and he looks at you for a second - a questioning one since he just had his tongue inside you. You roll your eyes in a “duh, that’s the point way,” and Spencer swallows thickly. 

“Do you want me to return the favor? Because I’m more than happy too,” you say reaching for his dick, which twitched at your touch. Spencer shakes his head. 

“Not right now, wanna focus on you tonight,” Spencer replies. You look at him with the most affectionate puppy dog eyes and Spencer bursts out into full giggles. God, he loved you. 

“Can I?,” Spencers question is tentative, and all you do in response is open your legs up wider for him and give him a nod. You mouth a “please,” to him and Spencer just smiles, kissing you softly. 

Spencer stretches you out so fucking good. He’s careful, whispering pretty nothings about how beautiful you are and how lucky he was. The words were only fuel to the fire as you tighten around Spencer and some choked sound leaves his throat. Out of curiosity, you do it again and Spencer moans aloud. You give him a raised eyebrow and his voice is suddenly low. 

“Do that again and I’ll cum,” Spencer warns. You giggled for a second before looking up at Spencer’s face. 

“You can cum in me if you’d like to,” you say, voice innocent “I’m on the pill,” Spencer wants to cum right then and there but he pauses to take a deep breath. 

“Think I’ll have to take you up on that,” Spencer groans. You use one hand to rub your clit as Spencer pulls his hips back and starts to fuck you. The motion is slow at first, not wanting to hurt you but your voice in his ear only urges you to go deeper. 

“I’m so lucky to have you like this love, you’re so pretty for me,” Spencer’s praises are so sweet to you. Sugar to aching ears when he speaks lovely words for you. You whine. 

“Spencer please cum in me - god, please,” you egg Spencer on as you get yourself off one last time. Spencer presses his forehead to yours, pausing for a second to kiss you sweetly before pounding into you again. 

“Shit,” Spencer’s voice feels like it gets stolen from him as he finishes inside, feeling your orgasm aftermath convulse around him pushes him off the edge as you look at him warmly, a soft blush flooding your expression. 

“I love you so much,” you giggle to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing him to rest his body weight on you. Spencer wants to stay with you like this forever, wanting to wrap you up in his arms and hold you for eternity. He was hoping you’d let him. 

“I wanna stay like this, but let’s go get cleaned up first,” you say thoughtfully “I can wash your hair for you and we can shower together,” you say softly. Tears well up in Spencers eyes - remember the last time you did just that for him. He nods softly, burying his face in your neck, kissing new bruises that were soon to become dark purples. 

____

You come out of the shower first as you hear a knock on your door. It’s been a few minutes and the knocking has been incessant, you figure it’s a neighbor or maybe someone who needed help. You wrap your robe around yourself and towel around your hair before you open up the door. 

To your fucking dismay, it’s JJ, Emily, and Penelope - all stood outside with a bottle of wine as a greeting. Your eyes pop open immediately as you try to brush away the panic and give them all a fake smile. 

“Hey guys! What are you all doing here so late?,” you ask, internal panic threatening your life. They all give you a knowing look. 

“Well, we wanted to talk to you about something and we figure -,” Garcia starts but is interrupted by the sound of Spencer’s voice, calling out to you as he walks out of the shower and in view of the open door. He can’t see them, but they can see him and he’s covered in hickies. You shut your eyes in disbelief as they all go dead silent. 

“Oh - oh my god is that Spencer?,” JJ asks shocked. You’re going to throw yourself in front of a bus. 

“Shit,” Spencer bolts into the other room leaving you to deal with the mess. You were so gonna get him for that later. You give them all an apologetic look. 

“We, uh - yeah,” you say a little distant. They all just giving you a knowing look, even Garcia even though that’s mixed with a bit of disgust. 

“We’ll see you on Monday, Y/N,” Emily says, being an angel and cutting the conversation short. You just nod as she drags a blabbering Garcia and deadsilent JJ away, reminding yourself to send her a thank you note later on. You walk into the room with Spencer and he gives you a guilty look, eyes apologetic as you roll your eyes, walking up to him to kiss him. 

“You’re so goddamn lucky I like you, dickhead,”

“You like me?,” Spencer asks, wrapping his arms around your waist before falling over to lay down with you. 

“Oh shut up, you know I do,” your tone is mean but your face gives you away. Spencer kisses you long and slow before looking at you again. The room is barred with loving silence, it feels every part of the air. It’s domestic, soft and adoring. A person whose love made you feel child-like joy but whose being brought your soul such comfort. You and Spencer lay in your bedroom like that for a while. 

“We should change right?” you ask laughing. Spencer nods. 

“I have clothes for you in my dresser,” you remind. Spencer nods as he stands up, slipping on some boxers and a shirt. You change into some old college pj’s and shorts and get laid up next to Spencer. 

There’s this silence that fills the room. It’s difficult to describe, the feeling of it is so new and hard to pinpoint exactly. You can feel it just barely on your skin, the way Spencer’s arms hold your waist as the two of you lay next to each other, closing the gaps of space that fall between you - just itching for that familiar feeling of closeness. Spencer Reid was the closest thing to heaven you ever got - scruffy face and curious eyes. It’s hard to find truth in another person, yet stil Spencer shows up for you and kisses away all your nightmares. Loving him was so certain, but the fact that he loved you too felt unreal, still. Maybe it always would. It was a lot for you to take in but the feeling of him at your side, face on your chest sleepily messing with your hands. The way he looks up at you with such a pretty expression, mouthing the words I love you. It was the silence in the room and the cadence it managed - the soft and lulling adoration buzzing the nerves on your skin and kissing you awake. This was more than love, but faith. A regained faith in the notion that good things really can happen to good people. Spencer’s love to you was a promise from the universe that good things are always around you even if you don’t see it at first. 

Spencer is so relaxed against you now, you read his body language and can feel his exhaustion. You were so attuned to him, fingers aching to run through his hair and tell him how proud you were. Spencer made your heart light - his beaming smile turning you flush. Beautiful - him, this, the universe. Loving Spencer made the world feel so beautiful, even though both of you encountered such darkness in it. You were going to marry him someday, you were so sure of it. Someday you and Spencer would grow old and live with some livestock in a cottage somewhere far from here like he wanted. Or maybe a house in the suburbs with two babies you call your own - and a cat, and a dog too. Anything would work for you, but Spencer is probably a bit more picky. 

For you and Dr. Spencer Reid, love has always been a case study in body language. People lie, or hide the truth when they talk - so the two of you have never fallen in love with the words you may exchange. Instead you’ve fallen in love with the gentle touches, the longing glances and lingering hugs - or the feeling of their skin on yours when the night is too cold to be alone. It was the dilating pupils, and the feelings that universe seemed to fall away when the two of you shared looks to each other. You fell for Spencers subconscious before you ever fell for his mind or his body - the little things he did like raising his shoulders when he was happy, or fiddling with your hands when he was deep in thought, you fell in love with the things Spencer would never see for himself and he did the same for you. Spencer fell for the way you moved without thinking. For the person you were when all the curtains were closed. 

Love is anything but conscious. Love is deep-rooted in the sheer notion of that being alive is worth something, which is to say love is the basis of life. Not romantic love - but all love. Love is the basis of life. Spencer Reid loved you, sharing a piece of his life. In returns you gave him yours. An eye for an eye can give us sight we could never have before, if the exchange is born of adoration. 

There are still so many unresolved knots to tie, but for now it didn’t matter. Just like those first two months, Spencer is laying at your side and he smells like you. For now, he was here with you - as the two of you fell so deeply for each other as the seconds passed. There are so many questions to answer, but that’s okay for now. 

You two had all the time in the world to figure the rest out, and for him - thats more than enough. 

This silence was more than enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ive been working on this fic for a while and i felt like it would be good to upload it here. ive been uploading on my tumblr which ill link here but its been a long time coming. thanks for reading, very proud of this. follow my tumblr tho lol 
> 
> https://moonlit-martyr.tumblr.com/


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